


You make my whole world feel so right (when it's wrong)

by lwtmehome



Series: You make my whole world feel so right (when it's wrong) [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Bottom Harry, Businessman Louis, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I love Ziam too, Jay is a literal angel, Kinda, Louis loves her, M/M, Minor Character Death, Niall's never gonna find anyone, Slow Burn, Smut, Sort Of, Top Louis, and everyone loves Jay, and harry, and stupid people who don't wanna see their feelings, becoming a part of the other's life, dont get scared with louis and eleanor, it's kinda irrelevant, last but not least, lots of love, previous alcoholism, so much thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-13 02:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 114,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12973491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwtmehome/pseuds/lwtmehome
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is a 35-year-old father of a fifteen-year-old girl, he's married and has inherited his father's company at a relatively young age. He has his best friend as his assistant and all the money he could ever ask for, a huge house in London and he's seen more cities than he can even remember.But Louis Tomlinson isn't happy, isn't excited -isn't living.Until one day he flies from L.A. to London and is forced to sit beside a young man who doesn't have any idea how a regular person would act around a complete stranger, let alone what personal space means. After that, Louis Tomlinson is definitely alive.or, a story of two very ordinary, a bit messed up people, who grow dependent on each other and think the other is everythingbutordinary.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ**
> 
>  
> 
>   _This story is purely a work of fiction. It isn't based in real life in any way. The story is mine, but I don't own the characters of course. Please do not share my story anywhere or translate it without my permission. The picture at the beginning is by me, so please do not distribute that one either. The title is from Kodaline's **The one** About the songs that I've put in there: credits to their rightful owners, some amazing music there._
> 
>    
> Here's a playlist of the songs I listened to while writing this piece, by the request of one of my readers x.  
> Playlist here  
> In case it doesn't work, here's the actual link:   
> https://open.spotify.com/user/8qkltser8iumld0sk0n4cn0vl/playlist/2gQ2FaahKvJ4EissmCNvFp?si=URsZLrUISWqO2lM_CiueRQ
> 
>  
> 
>  This is a story of two people who fall in love kind of without noticing it and isn't passionate in the traditional way. It's about slowly growing dependent on someone, without really realising it. It's that soulmate shit, you get the drill.
> 
> There's a minor character death and writing it made me very emotional. I think it'll make you, too. You've been warned.
> 
> And lastly: I've been working on this for a long, long time. That said, it's still my **very first** full-length fic, so there's without a doubt room for improvement. I hope you mercy me with the critique. That said, _please do leave comments and constructive criticism is always welcome_. Thank you.

 

**\- August 18th, Thursday**

_[Bastille - Get Home](https://open.spotify.com/track/4yAcW3NtEpNoNGWOAQhUMf) _

Louis would give just about anything if by some magic hand, he’d be able to get home into his king size, to snuggle into his pillow and then drift in to a slumber, oh sweet sweet slumber. Of course, no such magic hands exist in the life of Louis Tomlinson. He may be rich, handsome and well-known, but not a magician.

A weary eyed, 35-year-old male with a slight stubble stares back at him from the mirror. His lips are in a thin line, corners pulling down by default at this age, life having sucked out the youthful joy and the smiles along with it. Though his eyes are tired, they still shine bright blue and his cheekbones stand high, creating shadows right underneath them.

He doesn’t look bad, not even that old, but it’s not a secret he’s no teenager anymore. Louis just isn’t completely sure when exactly did this happen, the aging thing. Was it right after he graduated from university to be a financial manager at his father’s company? Or maybe after he married Eleanor and Abigail was born? He can’t pinpoint the moment, not even the year or period of time.

With a sigh, he ties his necktie in an accustomed manner, finally deciding he should look presentable if they’re going to fly in the first class. After fifteen years or so, the tie still feels uncomfortable around his neck. He knows how to put in on in his sleep, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s much too formal for him and makes him feel like he might suffocate any given moment. Five hours feels like the absolute maximum of time Louis can go with this horrid piece of accessory on, before he needs to get it off at least for a minute or two. It just so happens to be the unfortunate reality that his job attire can’t be completed without said piece of accessory. If Louis had even the smallest idea of how to be an organized person or how to pack, he would actually bring another set of clothes, something a little more comfier, but so far that hasn’t happened very often, and today is no exception. He regrets his poor managing skills in that field.

Three knocks on the door and in walks Louis’ assistant and even more than that, his best friend.

”Ready to go, boss?”

Liam’s as perky as always, and honestly Louis has no idea how the man does it. As far as he’s aware, Liam’s been tracking his every move for nearly eight years now, and with Louis’ schedule he ought to show at least some sign of exhaustion, but Louis’ pretty sure he’s never even seen the man sleep. Maybe it has something to do with all that healthy food, exercise and the seven-year age difference between them.

”Yeah, I think so,” Louis nods, receiving a small, supportive smile from the other man.

Louis lets Liam handle his hand luggage – it’s not a luxury he gets every trip – and they leave the hotel. Liam’s ordered a cab for them in advance to save time, which is one of the reasons Louis hired him in the first place. The man is efficient and strict when it comes to deadlines and timetables – something Louis very much needs, having no time management skills whatsoever – but also kind and fun to be around – also something Louis couldn’t live without anymore. Their constant banter makes most of the dead-boring business trips almost worth his while.

When he first interviewed Liam, he’d had some doubts, the mans’s appearance just a tad too soft and huggable for someone credible in the older's opinion. Maybe Louis’ pet peeve - people who are too indecisive and vague - had something to do with it as well. The brown haired man had seemed quite nervous, still young and clearly inexperienced in the field and Louis can still remember how he'd tapped his fingers on the wooden desk, impatient to get rid of the man to interview someone more qualified. Three minutes into the interview, however, Liam had shown he’s fully capable of being professional and knows what he’s doing, and if that didn’t have Louis reconsidering, it was the remark Liam had accidentally let slip past his lips when he’d spotted the bobby head doll behind Louis, on the book shelf:

”You a fan of Leicester? I think I need to go.”

Louis isn’t a fan of Leicester, the doll was a gift from his cousin. The poor little girl had gotten the team wrong, but Louis hadn’t had the heart not to put the doll on the shelf, where his cousin wanted it. Liam had been unapologetic about his slip up and Louis had no choice but to admit that he’s actually a fan of Manchester United and that Liam could have the job. He hasn't regretted his choice once since that day.

”So, what’s the plan for the day?” Louis asks, leaning his head back and willing himself to close his eyes for a bit.

”Nothing, really. We’ll fly back to London and then you’ll take a day off to spend with Abbie, since it’s her birthday and all,” Liam’s tone is all but faux-casual, because the man simply can’t do casual.

”You little shit,” The older shakes his head, ”Do you really think I wouldn’t remember my own daughter’s birthday?” Louis’ tired but he manages a small smirk and a side glance at Liam, who grins and shrugs.

”Can never be too sure with you businessmen,” he defends.

Louis doesn’t argue, because it’s not unheard of that men like him forget about their special ones’ birthdays. Louis has never forgotten a birthday in his life. It’s the anniversaries he has trouble remembering, his and El’s mainly. He figures it’s alright, though, since most of his colleagues tend to forget they’re married at all.

They fall into a comfortable silence, one that Louis calls ’ _the-get-ready-for-home-life_ ’ silence. It’s something that happens every time they are returning from a business trip like this. A trip where he’s spent three or four days in a city like New York or Chicago without really seeing anything else than conference rooms and fancy restaurants that have lost their shine in Louis’ eyes a long time ago. Five stars doesn’t equal happiness, not in Louis’ case at least.

In the beginning of their relationship as a manager and an assistant, before they’d become friends, on these cab drives Liam would go on and on about how excited Louis must be to get home to his wife and daughter, and, well. It’s not that Louis _isn’t_ , but after stressing about work and trying to please people to his best ability - not Louis' forte - he doesn’t exactly want to think about his disappointed daughter’s sad eyes or his nagging wife, but rather enjoys the last minutes of silence he’s got. It never really helped that Liam had a gorgeous painter boyfriend, Zayn, waiting for him at home. The two seemed to share one of those deep bonds that Louis never really understood, yet admired.

Liam’s a quick learner, though, and Louis thinks that the moment it all clicked in the man’s head was when he met Louis’ family for the first time, after Louis and him had become closer. Liam never said anything about it, but suddenly the cab drives were silent, apart from the younger’s quiet humming and tapping on his iPad. Louis was grateful, still is.

They arrive at the airport with plenty of time on their hands, because Liam is the type of an assistant that won’t leave anything unsettled and won’t gamble. They’ve done their check-in the night before so they just go through the security checks, smoothly, routinely. Liam’s done his research and picked some coffee house for them to sit at before their boarding. It’s a tradition by now, one that Louis doesn’t mind. He can’t usually sleep on the plane anyway, so he needs a cuppa or two.

LAX is packed with people, as per usual, but either way it’s one of Louis’ favourite airports. Not all the time, just after he’s gotten his coffee and sat down on a relatively comfy bench and gotten his shoulders to relax a little. Security checks and all the queuing are a nightmare, even with all of the perks that come with Louis’ platinum card. But there's something about all the people that find their way here. They come from all around the world, dozens of different languages bouncing around the huge building. It's relaxing, in a way.

They’re surrounded by regular people, groups of people eerily happy for being awake at this God awful hour. A family of four catches Louis’ eyes, for some reason. They’re sitting left from him and Liam, eating fries and chatting away. The kids have Mickey Mouse and Minnie ears on and Louis figures they must have been to Disneyland. The boy, a small round face with a tussle of brown hair on top of his head, is probably seven or eight years old, while the girl with her bright brown eyes can’t be much older than four or so. They’re bickering, but it’s nothing serious. The girl’s lips keep twitching and her pouty face finally fails once the boy, presumably her brother, gives her a tickle to her side. The mother and father look at the kids with somewhat loving eyes and something twinges inside Louis.

”Oh,” Liam’s distressed voice pokes right into his thoughts, catching his attention.

”What is it?”

”It looks like we’re not flying in business class today after all,” Liam furrows his brows, reading something off of his iPad, ”It says they’re packed, so we’ve been moved to economy. Other business class perks are included, though.”

”It’s not a problem, mate. I can’t say I wouldn’t have enjoyed the luxury, but it’s alright,” Louis assures.

Liam’s shoulders slump in relaxation and the crease on his forehead eases. The man needs to relax, in general, Louis thinks, but doesn’t say anything. He knows Liam and he knows he’ll stress about things like these whether Louis likes it or not. They’re best friends and sometimes it’s a little weird seeing the younger in his work-mode, all fussy and uptight – more so than usually, at least. Louis’ pretty sure it’s something he hasn’t been able to shake since the early days, despite them becoming so much closer. It’s a way for Liam to show he cares about the older, which is nice, really.

Their flight is on time and before they know it, they’re sitting down in the first row of economy class, being served champagne that Louis accepts, though requests the non-alcoholic version, but Liam refuses his, even after Louis insists he should take one. Another thing about Liam: he’s professional when they’re working, no matter what.

Louis isn’t too picky about flying in economy, but he has to check if there’s possible crying kids around them. As much as he enjoyed Abbie’s toddler years, he doesn’t fancy a crying baby around him for seven hours. Next to him there’s an empty seat, but Louis’ pretty sure it’ll be filled by some lonely traveller, an assistant of someone much more uptight than Louis, probably. Liam’s seat is on the other side of him – currently vacant, Liam having disappeared to the bathroom – and on the next row of seats there’s three elderly people, unlikely to cause any ruckus. Then Louis twists his body a little to take a peek behind them from in between his and Liam’s seats, but doesn’t see any children.

_[One Direction - Little Black Dress](https://open.spotify.com/track/4lxaurdMyGkt1tOrdwRoVO) _

”Excuse me. It’s impolite to spy on others,” someone mock whispers from right next to him.

The voice travels right through Louis, like an electric shock. It's unbelievably slow and raspy, yet smooth like honey and something else, something Louis can’t really name. He pulls away from the crack between the seats, embarrassed beyond himself (not that he’d ever admit it out loud), to come face to face with a tall, curly haired stranger. The expression on the man’s face makes Louis want to throw himself out of the tiny window.

The other’s lips hold the same amused tilt his voice did just a second ago and though Louis feels a bit more than ashamed, being caught peeking like this, all he seems to be able to concentrate on are the man’s emerald green eyes, twinkling like a little boy’s. The stranger can’t be very old, Louis thinks, his features still holding a resemblance to something playful that his childhood years might’ve left behind in their wake. Something about his frog-like, yet unbelievably pretty face, makes it hard to look away, Louis notices with interest.

He also wonders why can’t he open his mouth and where is Liam when he’s needed. The moment is a bit surreal, though Louis doesn’t know why exactly, what’s so odd about it in the first place. The man isn’t that extraordinary looking and even if he was, it’s not like Louis to be stunned into silence by someone’s looks. It’s not like Louis to be stunned into a silence, period. And it isn’t like Louis knows him or anything, either. There’s no bells ringing, even though at this point it would probably be for the best if he could come up with a solid excuse for his staring.

”Uh, yeah,” Louis finally mumbles gracelessly, finding his voice as he scratches at his neck awkwardly.

”My seat is next to you, d’you mind?”

And wow, yes, the voice is definitely the slowest one Louis has ever heard, if not the lowest, too. He gets a sudden urge to ask if the stranger can sing, if he would sing for Louis. It’s ridiculous, but Louis seems to be all kinds of off today, his thoughts unfocused and a bit fuzzy. He furrows his brows at the messy thoughts, scolding himself. The trip seems to have taken a toll on Louis, somehow affecting his ability to think straight.

Even with his verbal gifts lost, he manages to keep his moves somewhat graceful as he gets up and lets the man scramble to his seat and then sits down himself. The curly haired stranger has long limbs and he seems to have a bit of trouble settling into his seat, but once he does, he starts speaking. Louis isn’t sure how he feels about that.

”’m Harry, nice to meet you.”

He’s got dimples, Louis notes with a small feeling of delight.

”Louis. Nice to meet you, too.”

Liam’s still not back and for some reason – probably for the same reason he’s starting to feel like he’s got a fever or something alike - Louis feels unbearably awkward sitting here, not knowing if he should carry on with the conversation. What’s the etiquette for situations like this? Louis can’t seem to stop glancing in the other’s direction, his mind still running a bit wild. Though it’s hard to guess Harry’s age, he looks a lot younger than him. His clothes leave little room for imagination to say the least, his black skinny jeans so tight Louis wonders how he managed to get them on in the first place, a dark lilac button down with flowers printed on it, the two top buttons left open to show two black tattooed swallows – and Louis thinks it’s on purpose. A fedora hat that Harry’s got perched on his knee seems to be the final touch to his outfit. Louis finds himself smiling a little, trying not to show it, still holding some self-respect. He wonders if he could pull the outfit off and it makes him smile even more.

Harry’s not like anyone Louis has ever met. To be fair, though, he’s only met a handful of people in the past fifteen years that aren’t snobby and rich businessmen or their wives and kids, but still. The vibe he gets from Harry is different. The man seems so casual, but in a different way than Zayn or even Niall, the Irish lad without a doubt the most easygoing guy Louis has the privilege to call his friend. He’d met the man at his favourite coffee shop some years ago, forming an unexpected friendship over football.

”Heading home, then?” Harry asks after a minute of silence, his hands folded on his lap, continuing the conversation Louis had thought was over.

The man doesn’t seem even a bit bothered by the silence that Louis interprets as awkward.

”Yeah, yeah. You?”

Louis has never felt quite this uneasy in his own skin, like he doesn’t have control over his own mouth. He feels a little self-conscious, too, like his appearance is somehow off, as if it would matter. He pushes his fringe out of his eyes anyhow.

”Yep. Just graduated a week ago and now it’s time to see if I can land a job in the UK,” Harry unnecessarily explains, not that Louis minds. _Anything’s better than the silence_ , he thinks.

At that moment Liam traipses back to his seat, not paying the least attention to Harry or to Louis, which is normal of course, because Liam’s shitty at reading the atmosphere anywhere else except stuffy conference rooms filled with business sharks that are out for blood. Louis pokes his best friend with his elbow to gain his attention, and once Liam turns his head, his kind, brown eyes land on Harry.

”Hullo. ’m Harry.”

Harry offers his hand to Liam, who takes it, with a confused smile and introduction to go with. Then him and Louis exchange a look, one of the looks they’ve developed during all those years spent in meetings with tension dancing around them like twelve ballerinas and snobby people trying to interpret all of their actions, greedy for any small bit of information.

They have a conversation with their eyes that goes something like this:

”Who is he and why is he talking to us?”

”I have no fucking idea.”

”Do something.”

”No. You do something.”

See, people talk about the overly friendly British, but honestly, no one’s ever talked to Louis on a plane without a good reason. It seems that it won’t be a problem though, as Harry digs a book from his bag and starts reading it, without another word.

_Talk about peculiar,_ Louis thinks.

–

The first few hours of the flight Louis tries to sleep, but ends up just fidgeting and turning and twisting, until Liam gives him a death glare from behind his iPad, where Louis can see he’s watching Breaking Bad. Since sleep doesn’t seem to be an option, Louis glances at Harry, who’s still absorbed in his book, humming silently, which he’s been doing more or less all flight.

The boy – or man, Louis still isn’t sure how old Harry is – is gnawing on his thumb nail so hard Louis thinks there’s nothing left to gnaw on if he keeps going like that. He looks ridiculously pretty though, and young. So, very young. It has positively surprised Louis how intrigued he seems to be with the stranger, something about him quite mesmerizing to Louis’ eyes. It’s not the first time Louis thinks a boy is pretty. It’s not the first time he’s found himself battling the thoughts, not the first time he’s convincing himself _’it’s alright’_ and then scolding himself for having to convince himself it’s alright, because he knows it is.

Louis is married to a woman, for God know’s what reason, but he is. It doesn’t mean he’d never had any feelings towards any men, ever. Louis is – or was – surprisingly free-spirited, not that it’s considered to be anything out of ordinary nowadays to like the same sex as you are, but still, he was free-spirited when he went to university. Even though Louis has had boyfriends, he’d never taken them home, never really seriously thought about ending up with a man. When he’d begun relationships with guys, he’d always known somewhere deep inside his mind, it’d never last, he’d never let it last, and often the relationships ended because Louis felt heavy for lying, for promising a forever he’d never even intended to give. Though there’s always that one exception somewhere there, an exception to the rule as they say.

But it has been a long time since Louis last saw a man this breathtakingly beautiful. Or handsome, he supposes that’s what you should say about a man. Harry isn’t just handsome, though, is the thing. To some other people Harry might not strike as beautiful, but maybe a bit odd looking with his slightly square-shaped head and long, curly mess of a hair. He isn’t handsome in the traditional way, but he is exactly Louis’ type. Louis wasn’t even aware he had a type.

Louis is also married, man or woman, nonetheless he’s married. It’s not a crime to admire beauty when you see it, something Louis had learned a long time ago when he’d still been a naïve little boy, thinking it was wrong, basically an adultery to even look at other people while married. The older he got, the more he liked to think he understood about the semantics of marriage. It’s never black and white with love.

This stranger, Harry, is poking the parts inside of him that have long been untouched, and it’s embarrassing for Louis to admit that he actually feels a bit aroused just thinking about how close he is to the younger man. Eleanor’s and his relationship hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park during the last couple of years, and Louis has more often than not had to settle for the comfort of his hand. And Harry truly is a beautiful man with his plump lips and rosy cheeks. It’s barely an excuse, though, and even Louis himself is quite bothered by his own train of thoughts.

”As much as I feel flattered by your staring, it’s starting to creep me out a bit. And it also makes me self-conscious. ’s there something on my face?” Harry asks, a hint of laughter in his voice, but also a tilt towards anxiety, as he touches his cheek and turns to look at Louis.

Louis feels like he’s been caught red-handed, which, well. He kind of has.

He offers the man a sheepish smile, before picking the first thing he can think of and using it as an excuse for his upfront staring. ”No, uh, I was thinking about the book you’re reading. Is it any good?”

_Poor, Tomlinson, just pitiful_ , Louis thinks to himself, his eyes falling shut for a moment to let the embarrassment sweep over him. And he has the audacity to call himself a businessman.

Harry smirks at him, showing the cover of the book: _Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. Great,_ Louis huffs inwardly. He’s not a book person himself, but he’s somewhat familiar with the story in question. Something about a woman falling in love with a younger man, if he recalls correctly. Though it might’ve also been about a royal woman falling for a peasant, possibly both.

”It’s a good book, yeah. I can’t know if you’d like it, but I do,” Harry then shrugs, offering Louis another one of his dimpled smiles.

”Yeah, I don’t really know about books all that much, if I’m being honest,” Louis scratches at his neck, feeling a bit uncomfortable, again.

It bothers him, that he feels so awkward, because Harry clearly isn’t feeling any discomfort at all, and it makes Louis wonder if he’s just lost the ability to communicate with people outside of business world. The thought makes him oddly uneasy. He tries to fix his posture a little and manages a somewhat more confident expression as well.

”I figured. Are you a businessman, perhaps? A broker, I’d guess,” Harry raises his brows with confidence, too, his lips in a subtle smile as always.

”Not a broker, no. Just a manager at some boring company, I’m afraid,” Louis laughs out, for some reason not being able to look Harry in the eye.

Maybe he doesn’t want to lose Harry’s interest, which usually happens with people when they find out what Louis does for living: apparently being an executive manager isn’t all that exciting.

”Damn it, I was so sure I got it right,” Harry bites down on his plump lower lip, glee dancing in his green eyes, erupting another small laugh out of Louis.

”You don’t really know anything about me, though. Save for the fact that I have an assistant. And that I don’t read,” Louis comforts, playing along.

”And that you’re a creepy stalker, staring at me for no apparent reason,” Harry provides, with an appropriate hand gesture towards Louis.

The older huffs at him, turning his gaze away shortly. Harry is energetic and fun, Louis feels, even though he doesn’t really know anything about the man, either. He just oozes that rare kind of self-confidence that you only come across approximately once in your lifetime, if you’re lucky. And there’s something else, too, something very different than what Louis is used to, is the thing. Harry seems like a person who’s made a life for himself, just because he has wanted to. Someone who knows where they're heading in life, even without a solid plan. 

”Let’s play twenty questions,” the curly haired one suddenly says, ”I’ve read enough of love stories for one day. I want to know more about the creepy, yet oddly nice man sitting next to me on a plane to London.”

Louis blinks stupidly, dumbfounded.

”I’m 35 years old, Harold, I don’t play games,” Louis cringes, maybe not admitting to himself how much he feels like just saying– no, yelling _yes_ , because he just wants to know more about Harry, to talk to him, as ridiculous as that is.

Something flickers through Harry’s eyes, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared and Louis can’t read it.

”My name’s Harry, not _Harold_. And who cares if you’re a senile old man? Grandpas play chess and bingo all the time, why not play some twenty questions!”

Louis can feel his jaw dropping, he’s actually pretty sure something just got dislocated, and he feels a bit astonished, but in a good way. Harry is grinning at him, his teeth and dimples at display, and Louis really doesn’t know what to do with all this. He kind of just wants to tickle him to death, because _why the hell wouldn’t he_ , but suddenly he’s very aware of Liam sitting next to him and restrains himself.

”Fine, then. Let’s play your game, but I’ll beat you, just so you know,” Louis warns, earning a giddy laugh from Harry.

”We’re playing twenty questions, Louis, you can’t really win. Are you honestly telling me you’ve never, ever played twenty questions before?” Harry shakes his head, playful disapproval showing on his pretty face.

Louis’ brows knit together. ”No, Harry. I’ve played Monopoly and blackjack. Occasionally poker if I’m up for it,” he snorts at Harry’s scandalized face, ”What kind of a game is this if you can’t win? What’s the point?”

”We’ll just ask random questions from each other and the other has to answer as truthfully as possible,” the younger explains, turning sideways in his seat as well as he can with his long legs, ”It’s, like, a get-to-know each other game.”

Louis swallows, something much like nervousness lifting its head in his stomach suddenly. He finds himself feeling rather giddy at the thought of hearing some more personal things about the younger, whatever _getting to know each other_ might mean.

”Okay, you go first then. It’s your game,” the older gestures towards Harry, crossing his hands on top of his thighs.

”Alright. I’m curious, do you have a family?” Harry tilts his head a little, his expression open and interested.

”Yes,” Louis nods, and for some reason feels a bit disappointed that he has to say it out loud, even though Harry probably had noticed his ring, too, that Louis now has to fiddle with, ”I have a wife and a daughter.”

Harry smiles in response, and nods, prompting for Louis to ask a question in turn. The younger doesn’t give anything away about his thoughts, and Louis isn’t sure if they’d even matter to him, if they’re supposed to matter. Maybe.

”How old are you, exactly?” Louis doesn’t even have to think about the question, this is something he’s wanted to know since he laid his eyes on the other man.

Harry looks down at himself, his brows furrowing bemusedly, as if he thinks it’s a silly thing to ask. As if his age should somehow be prominent in his clothing or body language, something. ”What do you think?” he asks raising his head, lips pulling into a playful smile.

”I don’t think that’s how the game goes,” Louis teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile, ”I don’t know, how am I supposed to do this without offending you?” The older laughs, hiding his mouth with the back of his hand.

Harry’s green eyes light up, a soft laugh falling out of him. ”I won’t be offended. Promise.”

The smaller man considers the curly haired lad for a moment, thinks he can’t be much older than twenty-five, if that. There’s this inexplicable youthfulness in the man’s features, the way he talks and even breathes. It’s almost ridiculous. Harry prompts him to answer by raising his brows, his lips still smiling at Louis. ”Fine, but you wanted me to guess, okay? I’d say twenty-five, maybe.”

Harry bites down on his lower lip and shakes his head, clearly amused. ”You’re not too far off. I turned twenty-three in February.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, because okay. He had known Harry was young, of course he knew, the boy had just said he graduated from university, but twenty-three isn’t old at all. He’s not that far from Abbie, actually. Louis isn’t sure how he should feel about this information, not sure if he’s supposed to think anything of it at all. Harry doesn’t give him much time to digest it either, moving forward with the questions. Louis has a nagging feeling that the other might not want to get into the matter of his age either, as amusing as it might’ve been to let Louis guess.

”Do you have any siblings?”

”Yeah, six,” the older says proudly his family one of those things he’ll always be gloating about, without exception. Harry obviously notices this, as he keeps asking more questions about Louis’ sisters and brother, even though the other thinks the game doesn’t actually allow extra questions. He still briefly tells Harry about the two sets of twins in his family, about his older little sisters that he’s very proud of. He can’t help listing their names as well, even though he’s pretty sure Harry won’t be able to remember them afterwards anyway.

”They sound like lovely people,” the younger’s leaning on the wall behind him, somehow managing to fit in the tiny seat sideways with his long legs, ”You love them a lot, yeah?”

Louis nods, feeling coy all of a sudden, afraid the love’s actually going to show on him as a blush or something just as embarrassing. ”Yeah. They’re the most important thing in my life, I reckon,” Louis hums then, before clearing his throat. ”It’s my turn then. What did you study in uni?”

Harry holds a small pause and Louis can’t tell what’s on his mind. The moment is gone too fast for him to even try. ”At first I studied law, but it wasn’t really my thing, so I changed my major to literature,” the younger says, waving the book still in his hands, ”Now I’ve realised you can’t really have a job with this degree, so I’m thinking I’ll aim for a literature teacher or something. Not sure if that’s what I’ll end up doing, but, you know.”

All this is so fascinating to Louis, so fascinating he doesn’t understand it himself. Harry seems like an ordinary lad, and he is, but there’s still something about him that nags at Louis, keeps him interested either way. The longer he talks to Harry, the more he feels like he’s known the man for much longer than just a couple of hours.

”Okay. That’s nice,” Louis nods, not exactly feeling like reminiscing his old days by bringing up his own university days, with a fit, young man and further press the fact that he’s basically already got his other foot in the grave.

”What do you want to be when you grow up?” Harry asks then, the dimples out again.

”I am grown up, Harry,” Louis rolls his eyes at the younger, who just swats at his arm.

”No, I see a child in you. Relax a bit, Louis, live a little. What d’you wanna be when you grow up?” Harry repeats the question.

Despite finding it utterly ridiculous, Louis gives the question a thought. He has to, because he hasn’t really done so in fifteen years or so.

”I wanted to become a football player, when I was like twelve or summat,” he laughs, tapping the arm rest with his fingers, ”Uh, but maybe now, if I had to choose, I’d want to be an architect,” he says after a while, his voice surprisingly quiet, as if he’s a bit ashamed of admitting this. And maybe he is, with Liam sitting right next to him.

_Liam._

Louis turns around, hoping to find his assistant engrossed in his iPad, but instead he comes face to face with his best friend, mildly amused and a little confused looking, watching them. The device lays long forgotten on the younger man’s lap as he’s leaning his cheek on his palm, proper comfortable in his seat. Louis narrows his eyes at the man, only to have Liam raise his hands in a sign of surrender and click the iPad open again, still smirking by himself, glancing Louis’ way.

The hair on the older’s neck stand up, knowing this isn’t the end of the conversation. Liam’s a sweet guy, but never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his best friend. Louis gives the man one more glare, as intimidating as possible.

”Why don’t you become an architect then?” Harry asks, gently nudging Louis’ arm with his knuckles to bring the older’s attention back to him. Louis jolts a little at the touch, but as soon as it’s gone, he sort of misses it.

He has to take a lengthy second to school himself, before he offers Harry a sheepish smile, even though the younger’s kindly enough pretending like the exchange with Liam never occurred.

Louis shrugs then, ”It doesn’t feel like something I could do, I guess. I’d need to study, and I have a family to support.”

Harry seems thoughtful for a while, but doesn’t say anything and so Louis doesn’t ask. He doesn’t dare to, let alone want to. The conversation is probing enough as it is. He notes the pauses, though, the pauses that Harry has been doing a lot during their conversation. It amuses him a little.

”Right. Uh, do you have any family?” Louis asks, breaking the silence.

”Mum, step-dad and a sister,” Harry smiles fondly, nodding, ”I’m going to see them in mere hours, too.”

The man seems all kinds of soft and sweet while thinking and talking about his family, reminding Louis a lot of himself while he talks about his own siblings or Abbie, or his mum. It warms the older’s heart, though he won’t say it out loud.

”My turn. Bananas or kiwis?” Harry’s eyes are very bright, and Louis isn’t sure if it’s just the way they are or if Harry’s just really happy at the moment. He’s pretty sure that kind of brightness can’t be temporary, though. His tone is as neutral as it’d been all this time, though, like the question he’s asking is actually relevant somehow.

”What kind of a question is that? You’re ridiculous,” Louis sputters, laughing again.

Harry smiles at him cryptically, waggling his eyebrows in a way Louis thought wasn’t even possible, ”As you will soon learn, mister Louis, I am a very ridiculous man,” he declares proudly, ”Now. Answer the question.”

Louis has a feeling Harry’s much more than just ridiculous.

–

Some would say it’s bitter-sweetness Louis feels when they’ve finally waited for Harry to collect his luggage at Heaththrow and he’s sent Liam to get them some coffee – not only because it’s quite late already, but also in order for him to say goodbye to Harry, whom Louis hadn’t realised is as tall as he is, much to the younger’s delight. They’re standing face to face and Louis is amusingly short next to the man. The height difference doesn’t bother the older as much as it sends a pleasant shiver down his spine, the way his nose barely reaches the height of Harry’s chin.

But it’s not bitter-sweetness Louis feels, not at all. He hopes it’s not. It must be just the fact that Harry had made him laugh and Louis had thought Harry was one of the rare people he gets along with so well he might actually want to see him voluntarily. He only really has three of those people in his life and one of them is his own assistant.

It feels silly to ask for Harry’s phone number though, even though Louis isn’t completely sure why. Maybe it’s because he’s so much older than Harry and now that they’re out of the plane he feels like Harry might’ve just been talking to him because they’d sat together for seven hours and there really wasn’t anyone else to talk to. The man had quite literally been between Louis and a wall, after all. Maybe it’s because Louis feels like he would be giving the wrong impression if he did ask for Harry’s number, he’s not sure.

When their eyes meet, Harry rolls his in a goodnatured manner and gives Louis a small, friendly shove.

”It was nice meeting you, Louis what-ever-your-last-name-is,” the taller one says, dimple-y smile out again.

”Tomlinson,” Louis provides, bashfully.

”I wasn’t finished,” Harry playfully scolds, ”As I was saying. It was nice meeting you, Louis _Tomlinson_ , but you’re sorely mistaken if you think I will let you get away with just one painful seven hour flight. Give me your number.”

And if Louis, childishly enough, wants to jump around and sing hallelujah, well then that’s not anyone’s business but his own. He digs up his business card and offers it to Harry, who accepts it with a smile and fishes out his phone from his tight jeans’ pocket right away. When Louis bemusedly asks him why does he have to do it now, Harry says that he always loses those cards and he doesn’t want to lose Louis’ number. It makes the older smile in a way someone would describe shy.

”Well, I better go. I still need to get to Holmes Chapel today, it’s a long bus ride. I’m sad you won’t be there with me,” Harry offers him a sad-tinted smile, but Louis hears the mockery in his voice.

”Right, right. I’m sure you’ll befriend someone much more fun than me,” he huffs, rolling his eyes, ”Go, you don’t want to miss your bus,” the older pushes Harry towards the exit signs gently.

Harry backs away little by little, and Louis feels heavy when he realises how much he wants to hug Harry goodbye. That’d be creepy and probably a little inappropriate, though, so he won’t, even if he really wants to. Harry keeps walking back first, and Louis is absolutely certain he’ll run into someone if he doesn’t turn around soon. The man’s goofy smile settles down in to a smaller, more intimate one, which Louis returns, just as Liam taps on his shoulder. He turns his gaze away from Harry for a second to take his coffee from his best mate, and when he turns back, Harry’s gone out the door.

”Well he was nice,” Liam then says, raising his eyebrows at Louis in a knowing manner.

Louis gives Liam a look, and shakes his head.

”Yeah, nice. Would probably make a great _friend._ ”

”Right, a friend,” Liam sighs, barely audible, ”Our car’s waiting, let’s go.”

–

Louis has tried to push the blue feeling away, the same feeling that reaches him every time he gets closer to home. It’s a persistent feeling though, and wraps itself around Louis no matter what he does, no matter how much he tries to think about good things.

Today is no exception. As he steps up the stairs to their small porch, he can feel the heaviness settling on his shoulders, whispering how it has missed him. Today the feeling is stronger than ever, and Louis doesn’t want to think about the connection between that and the curly haired man from the plane, but his mind has gone there before he can stop it. Louis pushes the door open nonetheless, and is greeted by a quiet house. He knows both his wife and daughter are still up, the clock is barely ten p.m. but he doesn’t bother to call out for them.

Eleanor seems to have heard him either way, as she appears under the arch that leads to their living room.

”Welcome home. Did it go well?”

”Better than expected,” Louis shrugs, putting down his suitcase, ”Is Abbie still up?”

Eleanor never gets to answer, as their daughter comes down the stairs, probably having heard their voices.

”Dad, hey,” her face lights up as she jumps over the last few steps in to Louis’ arms.

She looks beautiful, Louis thinks, with her chestnut hair resting on her shoulders and her sparkling blue eyes looking up at him like he’s the greatest hero on the planet. Louis finds himself often hoping he could live up to that.

”Any souvenirs?” Abbie tries to peek behind her father’s back, and it still surprises Louis how child-like she’s managed to stay, even though she’s nearly fifteen already. He isn't complaining, though, happy to keep the girl by his side as long as possible.

”Just this,” he says and pulls out a brown paper bag, which Abbie opens eagerly to find a black Michael Kors bag that Liam had picked out for her.

”Thanks, dad. I love it,” the girl’s smile lights up Louis’ world at once.

”No problem, bub,” the man kisses his daughter on the forehead and earns another sweet smile from her, ”I didn’t get any sleep on the plane, so I think I’ll head to bed for now. We’ll celebrate your birthday together tomorrow, yeah?”

”Yeah, of course,” Abbie kisses her father’s cheek before disappearing back to where she came from with goodnight wishes to them both.

Louis loosens his tie, finally getting rid of the damned thing. He also leaves his luggage at the door, not bothering to unpack yet, knowing full well he’ll have to travel to Manchester in couple of days. He walks to the kitchen, just to get some aspirin for the headache he feels rising, and to drink some water and check if he’s gotten any mail. Eleanor follows behind him, her arms crossed over her chest.

”Are you alright? You seem absent-minded,” El’s tone is worried, but the question only serves to annoy Louis, something uncomfortable swimming in his stomach. It’s nothing new, unfortunately.

”I’m good, just tired. Been a long day,” he doesn’t even look at his wife, only downs the water and the aspirin, before deciding it’s not worth it to go through the mail, he’d have time tomorrow. ”I’m going to bed now. Wake me up at nine if I’m still sleeping. We have that lunch scheduled at noon with mum, Lottie and Fizzy.”

”Sure,” Eleanor nods, giving Louis a small peck on the cheek as the man passes her on his way to the bedroom.

The bedroom Louis has learned to hate during all these years, yet can’t seem to escape. It’s a big one for two people, Louis has always thought, but it was something Eleanor insisted on having when they were house hunting five years back or so and even though Louis would prefer a more intimate room, he’s never cared enough to put up a fight.

He undresses himself and dives under the covers, in to the freshly washed satin sheets, expecting to fall asleep in no time, his body already tired and heavy. His mind doesn’t want to settle down, though, bouncing around like a Duracell bunny. Without Louis’ consent, a picture of a laughing young man and his green eyes keeps popping up in his mind, not excatly helping his attempts at sleeping.

He had left his number with Harry, but had never asked for the younger one’s in return. It seems it’s on the other to contact Louis, if the man ever will. He thinks back at Liam’s raised eyebrows as he’d said Harry would make a great friend, and even with Liam’s suspicion, Louis stands behind those words. It might be a bit odd, befriending a man over 10 years younger than him, but he’d genuinely enjoyed Harry’s company and in Louis’ life situation that barely ever happens with anyone. It doesn’t help shaking the feeling of discomfort looming in the back of his head, his friends’ judgmental faces vivid in his mind from when he’d last screwed up.

Either way, Louis feels like Harry won’t be contacting him anytime soon, if ever. As fun as they’d had – well, him at least – Louis thinks Harry might just be that type of a person: a person who gets a total stranger to entertain him for seven hours, and absolutely mesmerizes the person, and then disappears from their lives like that one good book you read years and years back, but can’t remember the name of it nor the author. Harry seems like that.

Louis promises himself he won’t think about Harry after tonight, because there’s no point in doing so, but at the same time he grants himself the permission to memorize the curly locks and impish green eyes, just for the night. Yeah, just for tonight.

 

**– August 19th, Friday**

When Abbie finally walks down the stairs, wearing the silver coloured dress Louis had bought her just a couple of months ago, Louis is already feeling wistful, which could mean he’s growing old. Abbie’s tied her hair up in a messy bun, and when Louis asks her why didn’t she just let her inherent curls fall on to her shoulders, the way Louis likes it, she just rolls her eyes and tells him this day is about her, not her father. She looks beautiful to Louis either way, the man thinks and kisses the top of her head even with her protesting.

They drive to East London to one of Abbie’s favourite restaurants, where they meet up with Louis’ mum and the two oldest of his little sisters, Charlotte and Felicite. Phoebe and Daisy, the older twins, will spend the night at Louis and El’s place to celebrate with Abbie, as they are nearly the same age. Sometimes it feels a bit crazy thinking that his mother and him had been exchanging parenting advice while Jay and Eleanor were pregnant and all the way through the baby years.

”Hi, loves,” Jay is the first to get up from the table and smother him and Abbie with kisses, ”And happy birthday to my favourite granddaughter, Abigail.”

Abbie’s pushing her away a bit, complaining how ’ _bloody embarrassing'_ her family is, while Louis just pulls his mum closer and kisses her cheek affectionately.

”Hi mum.”

Eleanor and Jay hug as well, even though the two have never really cared too much for each other’s company. Louis knows El’s life values are far away from his mum’s, and has never really tried to force them to get along. In hindsight, maybe a good son and a good husband would have done something. They would have probably avoided many arguments and awkward dinners if Louis had bothered to care enough.

”Take a seat. We haven’t ordered anything yet,” Jay motions at the table, as Lottie and Fizzy finally get up to hug Louis and Abbie, too, as Eleanor just offers them a polite smile.

”So, are you excited?” Lottie asks Abbie while they’re checking out the menu.

”What’s there to be excited about?” Abbie shrugs, nonchalant as ever, but Louis knows she’s been waiting for this since the day she turned fourteen.

”She’s excited, alright. Just too cool to admit it,” he teases, poking his daughter with his elbow.

The girl huffs at him, but the others only laugh.

As much as Louis enjoys spending time with his family and loves seeing Abbie’s face light up when Jay gives her a gift card to some beauty salon thing she’s wanted to go to for months now, there’s something looming over him. There always is, nowadays. Today it’s even more consuming, as he thinks about how fast time flies by. Abbie’s already fifteen-years-old, and Louis can so easily remember the day the girl was born. She had been tiny, born prematurely, and still had the darkest patch of hair Louis had ever seen on a baby. She’d made his life so much fuller at the time, she still does.

And as cliche as it sounds, she’s definitely the apple of Louis’ eye. So, it does feel a bit uncanny seeing her here, her face all covered in make-up and with high heels on and whatnot. Louis loves this girl to death and back again, and thus wishes he could stop time and maybe even rewind a little bit, to have his little, witty seven-year-old back, if not just for a minute. Close to him, right by his side where he can protect her from all the bad things in the world.

He feels old, to say the least, looking at his sisters all grown up, and now even his own daughter. He’d been so young when Abbie was born and now– well, now he’s old. Not too old, not old like his step-father, but his spirit feels old, like he doesn’t have much to give anymore. He can’t remember where half of his thirties have gone, let alone his twenties.

”What are you thinking about, darling?” Jay has switched places with Lottie and is now sitting next to Louis, her hand resting gently on top of Louis’.

Louis can see worry dancing in her eyes, so he pulls out the well practiced smile, though he feels like his mum just might see through his facade. She usually does.

”Nothing, really. Just thinking about how fast time flies. Abbie’s so big now,” Louis sighs, but doesn’t let his smile fall.

”I know, I know. That’s how I felt when I realised you were eighteen, you know,” Jay smiles her wise smile, the one Louis hopes to achieve, too, once he’s experienced enough. He doubts that’ll ever happen.

”Right. You still had little ones at home, though. I don’t, all I have is Abbie, who’s gonna move out in couple of years,” Louis’ lips pull into a frown, but his eyes twinkle as he playfully holds his hand above his heart.

”Maybe that’s good for you. Abbie’s a big girl now, and I know you’ve got some dreams in your back pocket that you wish to make come true. Don’t you want to? You have all the time once Abbie’s away at uni,” Jay shrugs at her own words, but Louis knows his mum is serious about what she’s saying, ”Besides, it’s not like you’re _that_ old. You could easily have another child, you know.”

Louis doesn’t want to think about all this right now, he notices, suddenly feeling very exhausted with all the talking around him and the thoughts about becoming old and maybe actually doing something to get what he wants. He deflects his mother’s question and offers her a smile. ”Well don’t hold your breath, mum.”

While the women order some dessert, Louis slips outside for a smoke and a call to Zayn. It rings twice before Louis can distinctly hear Liam’s laugh at the background.

”What’s up,” Zayn, always so youthful, even at thirty-four, Louis thinks.

”Hey, mate.”

The older takes a drag from his cigarette, full-well knowing he should be the one to open the conversation as he was the one to call. That’s the thing about Zayn though. Louis could call him at three a.m. and the man still wouldn’t expect him to have anything to say or talk about, they could just sit in silence for hours, and then just hang up. Zayn would let him get off the hook. Liam on the other hand, well he’s a different story.

”Are you at the fancy ass lunch?” Zayn asks, with laughter in his tone.

”Yeah, just stepped outside for a smoke, though,” Louis emphasizes his words by taking another drag and blowing the smoke out, ”She’s so fucking big now, y’know.”

Zayn actually laughs on the other side of the phone this time and Louis can hear him open the creaking door to the balcony.

”She’s bound to grow up, Lou. Even you did, against all odds,” a _’hey’_ from Louis, ”and she’ll be alright. You sure as hell won’t get the empty nest syndrome, I won’t let you. This is the time you start making all those plans, for yourself.”

Louis closes his eyes, leans back against the red brick wall and he still feels old and spent. He’s sure all of his joints are aching, even though they weren’t yesterday.

”Isn’t that what I’ve been doing for my whole life, though? I haven’t properly spent time with Abbie since she was nine or something,” Louis scoffs, disappointment in himself swimming in his stomach.

”No, mate. You have been living the life your father set for you before he died. Just because Abbie is now fifteen, it doesn’t mean you two can’t spend time together. She’s going to college, not dying, you fuckwit. Get ya shit together, man,” Zayn says, his voice firm.

No words will ever make up for the time Louis has spent away from his family, no time he offers to Abbie will bring back all the years he’s lost and that kills him. It’s one of those things Louis would read as his biggest regrets, but at the same time he hears Zayn. Being under his father’s watchful eye had been torture on its own, and even though Louis probably should’ve fought against him more, he didn’t. And if he decides to keep wallowing on that, he’ll just keep missing more years. Louis knew there’s a reason he chose to call Zayn.

”Yeah, guess you’re right. Better find a hobby then,” he smiles to himself and puts out the cigarette with his foot.

”Or get a lover, either is fine.”

They both laugh, before Louis thanks Zayn for the help, who of course, dismisses it by calling Louis a loser and hanging up on him.

And, yeah, maybe Louis doesn’t feel that old anymore.

–

”Okay, honey, we’ll go now. I’ll be at your grandparents’ house, I’ll come pick you up at – ” Eleanor gets rudely interrupted in the middle by Abbie yelling something about the scones towards the kitchen to Phoebe.

The woman gives Louis a look that Louis returns with a small grin and a shrug.

”Mum, I know. You’ll come and we’ll go see grandma and grandpa around one or two, I’ve got this,” Abbie sighs exaggeratingly, pushing Eleanor towards the open door where Louis is already standing.

”I’ll be at Liam and Zayn’s,” Louis informs and Abbie nods, rolling her eyes.

Teenagers.

”I won’t break anything, Phoebe and Daisy won’t either. We won’t have a party nor drink any alcohol. Please, just go already,” the girl pleads and Louis starts feeling so sorry for her that he takes El’s hand and pulls her outside, while Abbie just calls a quick goodbye.

”Unbelievable,” Eleanor says, astonished.

”What did you expect? She’s fifteen.”

–

They may all be nearly thirty years old and even over, but it has been agreed a long time ago that they’re never too old to sit down and play FIFA while having a pint or two, only Louis sticking with varying sodas, still trying to find one he actually likes. They don’t really share any common interests between the four of them other than the two mentioned above, but it doesn’t really matter. Louis can’t think of many better things to do on his free nights, especially when Abbie’s busy.

None of the three get drunk, not on a night when Louis and Liam have work the next day, but they’re all pleasantly tipsy and having fun and Louis’ enjoying the banter to the fullest. Around midnight he fishes out his phone to send Abbie a text message, asking her if they’re alright, only to notice he’s gotten a text message from an unknown number.

**Hi you. I have a cat now, his name is Dusty.**

There’s another one sent a minute or two later.

**Oh, this is Harry by the way. Harry Styles. Harry from the plane. The one who’s 13 years younger than you. Hi.**

An involuntary smile rises on Louis’ lips as he reads the messages. He knows he probably shouldn’t answer, considering how difficult it had been to push the man out of his mind in the first place. There isn’t a good way this could possibly end, most likely, but Louis’ feeling a bit frisky tonight. His brain still seems to be malfunctioning quite a bit. Maybe it’s the jet lag. And anyhow, it’d be rude not to answer, now that Harry had sent him a message.

_Hi Harry from the plane. Is he any cute?_

_Dusty. I meant the cat._

**Sure you did.**

**We’re both very cute.**

**Sorry. That was probably inappropriate.**

**How are you Louis? :)**

A loud cheer erupting from Niall brings Louis back in to the moment, and he gets up from the couch, taking his soda and pack of cigarettes with him, before escaping to the balcony. He lights up one of his Marlboro’s and types Harry a reply.

_I’m alright I suppose. Celebrated Abbie’s birthday today. Made me feel old._

**There’s no such thing as getting old, you fool. It’s all up to you and your mind. Don’t let it trick you into thinking you’re old.**

**You’re not.**

Louis smiles at the texts, and though it embarrasses him to admit it, they make him feel a little less old, yet again. Though that might just be Harry, not the words.

_Didn’t you call me a 'senile old man’? And a ’grandpa’, too. One of my mates told me today that I should get a lover now that I have time for myself. What do you reckon? Maybe a sugar baby._

**If I’d known it was this bad, i.e. you’re thinking of becoming a sugar daddy, I would’ve kept my mouth shut.**

**The lover thing, though. Now there’s an idea. Only if they’re super hot, though. Otherwise it’s just a waste of time.**

**No. I’m kidding.**

**Don’t do that.**

**Or if you do, at least choose a nice personality.**

**I suggest travelling, though. That could be fun.**

_Yeah, well. I’m going to Manchester on Friday. Does that count?_

**Are you going to work?**

_Yes._

**Then no. That’s for business, not pleasure.**

_Okay. Maybe I’ll just book a flight to Ibiza for my next vacation then._

**Take me with! I’ve always wanted to go.**

”What are you smiling at?” Liam steps outside then, closing the door behind him. He’s smiling crookedly, if Liam can even do that, as he picks up Louis’ forgotten cigarette from the edge of the ash tray and takes a drag.

”Nothing. Just messaging someone,” Louis shrugs, accepting the cigarette from his friend and repeating Liam’s action.

”Not a sidehoe, is it? Should I be worried?” Liam’s obviously joking, smoke pouring out of his mouth, and Louis wonders if people actually think he’s the type to have a lover. If he’d ever do that while fully conscious.

He wonders if he is, after all.

”Just Harry,” Louis assures, though this doesn’t seem to really calm Liam the way Louis had thought it would.

”Just? If we’re talking about that ridiculously attractive bloke we met on the plane yesterday, I’d maybe choose my words differently, if I were you,” his mate scoffs, his eyebrows raised in curiousity.

Louis shrugs yet again, and maybe he’s a bit tired and out of it, but suddenly having someone like Harry as a lover doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Of course he’d never do anything, he’d never seriously consider such thing, but it’s a thought that, at the moment, entertains him to some extent. He doesn't want to feel old, maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe.

”Relax, Harry would never consent to being a _sidehoe_ , as you said,” Louis waves his hand round and about, gazing at his phone’s lit up screen, signaling a new message.

”I don’t know mate. Just be careful,” Liam bites down on his lip, ”You barely know him,” he says and pats Louis on the shoulder, before hesitantly taking a step back, towards the door.

The older eyes Liam over his shoulder, a sneaky heavy feeling trying to appear, but he pushes it away with a flick of his wrist. ”Yeah, yeah. Go inside, I’ll join you in a moment.”

Liam doesn’t look very convinced, but he leaves Louis alone either way, stepping inside to go and yell alongside Niall. Louis profusely refuses to overthink Liam’s words or his own odd mind’s tricks, swiping his phone open, and sees Harry’s sent two more messages.

**I’m just kidding of course.**

**Am I disturbing? I can leave you be, just ask me to.**

_You’re fine, don’t worry. How’s your family doing? Were they excited to see you?_

**Mum cried for two hours and baked a cake while Gem went and bought Dusty for me so that I can’t leave to go far away.**

_That’s all it takes to get you to stay? Fuck, should’ve bought you a cat._

**You still can :)**

_It’s _not_ flirting, Louis reminds himself as he bites down on his lower lip, and types the next message._

_Maybe I will._

**Say Louis, do you own an iPhone?**

_I’m going to hell anyways, so obviously._

_Why?_

Harry doesn’t reply at all, but instead Louis’ phone starts vibrating from an incoming FaceTime call. Great, exactly what Louis needs. He quickly straightens his quiff, only to scold himself, because what does it matter. Then he taps the green icon and comes face to face with.. a cat?

”This is Dusty. Dusty say hi to Louis,” Harry has the kitten’s paw in his hand and he keeps waving it, until Dusty starts nipping at his finger.

”Hi Harry,” Louis greets, as Harry’s own face comes to view.

”Hey you. Sorry to bother you like this, hope I’m not interrupting your daughter’s birthday party,” Louis can see Harry’s trying to look for something behind him, maybe people or some sort of a clue where he’s at.

”I got evicted for the night. My two younger sisters are keeping Abbie company, so I’m at Liam’s house. You remember Liam, right?”

”Yeah, the teddy bear man. He was nice. Dating an artist, if I recall correctly?” Harry taps at his chin, his eyes squinted.

Louis nods, but a mischievous smirk appears on his lips. ”I’m going to tell Liam you called him teddy bear man. He’ll murder you.”

The younger’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping like he’s astonished by Louis’ words. ”I thought we were having this conversation just between the two of us,” Harry’s brows furrow, offended, as he pulls the blanket over himself, effectively making himself look like a four-year-old who didn’t get the cookie he wanted.

_Just between the two of us_ warms Louis’ heart a bit too much probably, but he pushes the feeling away. He’s getting really good at that, lately. He can only see Harry’s dark curls peeking from underneath the blanket, but the man is unbelievably adorable either way, though Louis does question his own thoughts a little. He feels a bit odd again.

”Fine. This is confidential then. Come out of there, Harry,” Louis pleads, forcing away the mingling feelings of guilt he refuses to acknowledge.

The younger pulls the blanket off in one swift move, revealing his dimpled smile.

”Where’s Liam then?”

”Playing FIFA with his hot artist boyfriend Zayn and our friend Niall inside the house,” Louis points towards the door, as if Harry could see something.

”Oh,” Harry frowns, ”Why are you outside alone?”

”I’m not alone, I have you,” Louis teases.

Harry rolls his eyes, but Louis can see him smiling. ”But still. You were alone before.”

”I came out for a smoke. And it’s not my turn to play,” Louis excuses, though he’s not sure why.

”You smoke?” Harry fakes condemnation, his eyes opened wide and his mouth agape.

”Why? Does that bother you?” Louis raises his brows, his lips quirking up without his will.

Harry seems to ponder over it, his green eyes glimmering in a way that’s still so new to Louis he doesn’t know what to make of it. ”Would you quit if I asked you to?” Amusement is now clear in the younger’s voice.,

”Sure,” Louis nods, ”If you’ll stop humming to yourself.”

”As if,” the other huffs, laughter slipping into his tone. ”Uh, I guess it doesn’t bother me then, but I think it’s only because of your pretty face,” Harry blinks, his lashes long and dark (although not as long or as dark as Louis’, mind you), and his lips pouty.

Seriously. _Is this kid actually 23_ , Louis thinks, though he’s biting down on his lower lip and shaking with laughter. The man on the other side of the screen is much more than Louis could’ve ever imagined, his appearance giving away nothing of his nature. He’s spontaneous and adorable, yet serious and intact. A combination Louis never thought he’d come across.

”I know. I have cheekbones to die for,” the older grins smugly, earning a roaring laugh from Harry.

”Lou? What ya doing, mate?” Niall’s voice sounds from the door.

”Huh? Oh, nothing. Just talking to a friend,” without really thinking about it, Louis turns his phone away. Not exactly to hide Harry, but, well. To maybe keep his face out of view.

”’kay. Just thought I’d let ya know it’s your turn. You against Liam, if you’re interested,” Niall sounds a bit intrigued, Louis can understand that, but the man doesn’t ask any questions.

Louis’ thankful.

”Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec.”

As soon as Niall disappears back inside, Louis turns the phone towards himself again, only hoping Harry hasn’t ended the call yet. He hasn’t. Instead, he seems to be attentively listening, his face pulled into an interested frown, his thumb and forefinger pinching his lower lip.

”He’s Irish? Wow, never would’ve guessed you’d have an Irish friend,” Harry shakes his head, clearly amused.

It’s Louis’ turn to frown.

”What d’you mean?”

”Well, not to be stereotypical, but all the Irish men I’ve encountered have been rowdy and outgoing and just, well, loud. Which isn’t exactly the type of people I picture you spending your Friday night with.”

”Excuse me? I can be loud and rowdy. In fact, I really am, both of those things,” Louis thinks the way he waves his finger around and about takes a little bit of the effect of his words away, but oh well.

”Sure. Your other friends are a quiet, thoughtful artist – Liam’s words, not mine – and the said teddy bear man. You are so not loud and rowdy, Louis,” Harry shakes his head again, this time his dimpled smile fully showing.

And well. Louis would love to keep chatting with Harry, would love to argue about this, love to show Harry he can be ’loud and rowdy’, too, but he knows he’s wanted inside. Harry must see this from his face, because the man settles down a little, his smile a more subtle one now.

”I think I need to head inside,” Louis admits then, out loud, but he doesn’t meet Harry’s gaze, ”It was nice talking to you, though.”

”Yeah, it was. I think I need to call you more often if it’ll make you laugh like this,” Harry smirks and pulls Dusty into his lap.

”Maybe you should,” Louis shrugs, aiming for nonchalance, ”Anyways. Guess we’ll talk later then.”

”Yup. Have a nice evening, Lou. Talk to you later.”

”You too. Bye, Harry,” Louis waves and Harry waves back, before disappearing from the screen.

Maybe Louis is an awful friend or something, but he really feels a little worse going back inside, not being able to talk to Harry. He wonders when’s the next time he can call the younger or if he should wait for Harry to call him, and it’s bloody ridiculous that he does. Harry’s a friend, not even that. He stands there for a while, just staring at his phone and questioning his own life, something he seems to be doing a lot lately.

Louis steps inside eventually and finds his friends talking about Niall’s long-term crush, Andie. The poor girl has no idea Niall’s been pining after her for at least six months now, just keeps happily checking Niall’s groceries, which the said man by the way does at least four times a week, even though he lives alone.

”Oh, Tommo, glad to have you join us,” Niall hums, leaning back in his seat.

”Oh piss off, Neil,” Louis rolls his eyes, flopping down next to Liam and taking one of the controllers.

”No, seriously. Who’d you talk to?” Liam nods towards the balcony, his eyebrows raised in a knowing manner while holding the game paused, as he’s having the controller number one.

”No one, just a guy from work,” Louis tries, immediately realising his mistake though.

”I work with you. You don’t keep in touch with anyone else than me outside work,” Liam easily debunks.

Right. Even Zayn’s giving him an interested look and honestly, Louis isn’t sure why it is so hard for him to just say it was Harry. They had only been talking about mundane things, like smoking and whatnot. He hadn’t broken any laws, had he?

In theory, Louis thinks Liam suspects he was talking to Harry, because the man already knows they had been texting, but he’s also thankful since Liam’s not bringing the name up. Which of course is still ridiculous, because Louis doesn’t have anything to hide. In fact, he thinks anyone who’s lucky enough to get to know Harry should be boasting about it, if anything.

”Fine. It was El’s cousin. He wanted some relationship advice and it’s just bloody embarrassing, innit? Can we play now,” Louis doesn’t wait for a reply, but instead just presses the button on Liam’s controller and the game unpauses.

And even though he receives some pretty confused looks from his mates and he knows lying will come and bite him in the arse later, he still feels pretty good about the call and seeing Harry’s face.

He also feels a little bit younger, almost like 22.

 

– **October 5th, Thursday**

Liverpool isn’t his favourite city, but it’ll do for now. It’s the only place they’d offered any further pedagogical studies at this time, and Harry really needs to get a permanent job. Liverpool John Moores University had also offered a position as an assistant literature teacher alongside the studies, albeit a low-paying one, but still.

Harry’s been living in Liverpool for eight days now, and starts his lectures in a week, after he’s settled in a little better. Right now he needs to get his studies rolling and so he’s camped out at one of the cafés near his rented studio. He would probably get kicked out, but the barista has been making googly eyes at him since he first sat down and ordered his camomile tea, which has gone cold by now.

Despite the initial struggle with finding a place to study at and the certainty of his interest in the subject, Harry thinks he’ll probably make a good teacher, because he’s actually interested in the things he’s studying. Unfortunately his attention is a bit loosely tied to the task at hand at this very moment, or well, has been for the past few days to be honest. He’s been doing a great job ( _read: piss poor job_ ) at lying to himself, telling himself his fuzzy thoughts and short span of concentration are caused by the recent changes in his life i.e. moving to a new city and starting anew.

Even now Harry keeps glancing at his phone on the table, hoping it would light up with a new message, but so far it hasn’t. It hasn’t done so in five days to be exact. Well, obviously it has done so, but the screen hasn’t said ’<i>Louis</i>’, and that’s the thing Harry has to lie to himself about.

No, _not_  because he’s gone and become fond of the man, nothing like that. But because Harry’s well aware how easily he gets attached to complete strangers – that being, not easily at all. Harry doesn’t get attached to the people he chats with or randomly meets on planes or grocery stores. Never has, and Louis is no different.

Harry doesn’t want him to be.

If he were to admit to himself that it actually does bother him quite a bit that Louis hasn’t really been replying to his messages, let alone been sending ones of his own, it would mean he’s truly gotten attached to a man he’s known for less than two months. And some would think that’s not bad, which, technically, it isn’t, but it scares the shit out of Harry. He’s an outgoing guy by nature, likes to make new friends and even more so new acquaintances, but rarely forms deep friendships. He’s not in a place to do that, not anymore.

Louis has been different in that department. And, well, pretty much on all of the others, too. When Harry had met him on the plane to London, he’d thought Louis looked absolutely stunning with his bright, blue eyes, slight stubble and cheekbones so high they deemed to be noticed. Those things hadn’t been the reason Harry had picked up a conversation with him, though. Besides looking handsome, Louis had also looked weary, spent even. Harry had wanted to cheer the man up – call it a saviour complex if you will. And he likes to think he managed to do as much. But that was supposed to be it. He hadn’t intended to take Louis’ number and when the words had slipped out of his mouth, he’d thought that certainly that would be it. He’d never call and Louis didn’t have his number. Yet, not even a day later, Harry had found himself typing a message to Louis, the man who intrigued him so much with his restrained personality and sharp teeth and even sharper tongue.

Somehow Louis had managed to become somewhat of a daily thing in Harry’s life. They texted each other good morning and good night nearly every day, and usually more than that. If Louis was busy, then Harry would send him little, random texts like ’ _I found a sapphire coloured tie. I think I’ll buy it for you_ ’ or ’ _ate chicken salad for lunch today. Wasn’t good.'_   Louis would reply before going to bed.

So yes, maybe Harry misses Louis’ texts and calls a little. But he shouldn’t, because it’s not normal for him to get this clingy with friends. Besides, Louis is a busy businessman. Harry can’t assume he’ll always have time for him.

Frustrated with himself, Harry lets his head drop against the table. He can clearly hear footsteps approaching, but at this point he’s just too tired to turn down another flirting attempt from the same barista, so he keeps his head down. Maybe the man will just pass.

”Harry?”

Oh.  _T_ _hat’s a familiar voice_ , Harry thinks, raising his head again.

And sure enough, it’s the teddy bear man, Liam. The man’s in a casual attire, wearing dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a leather jacket on top. His hair is fuzzier than the last time they’d seen and he seems less official, like an actual person this time.

”Oh. Hi. Liam, right?” Harry tries to get up to shake the man’s hand, but Liam insists he sits down, saying that he’s on his way out anyway.

”What brings you here?” Harry asks, a small, silly glimmer of hope inside him lifting its head. It’s just that Harry knows Liam and Louis travel a lot together on the behalf of their job.

”A business trip, what else,” Liam laughs, his gaze flicking towards the door briefly, something Harry probably shouldn’t even have noticed, ”What about yourself?”

”Moved here, actually. Just a week ago,” Harry explains, ”Uh, is Louis with you?”

Liam is just about to answer him, when the door opens and an all too familiar 35-year-old walks in. Louis spots Liam almost right away, and somehow Harry feels that his friend isn’t at his best today. His brows are knitted together and his mouth’s a thin line. Despite all that, the smaller man’s looks throw Harry off balance, just a little. He’s FaceTimed with the older plenty times to have seen him with his hair wet from the shower or messy from the previous night’s sleep, but somehow, he’s yet to have seen the soft fringe. The usual quiff is gone, Louis probably having bypassed styling his hair up since he isn’t wearing his suit either. Instead he’s wrapped up in a comfortable looking blue-grey sweater and some black jeans.

”How long does it take to buy one goddamn coffee, Liam?”

And yeah, Louis doesn’t sound particularly peachy.

Only now Harry notices the man beside him is in fact holding two cups in his hands. Liam, the poor lad with his brown puppy eyes, doesn’t get to say a word to defend himself, before Louis’ eyes land on Harry. The man is seemingly shocked. His steps come to a halt and his mouth falls open, just a little bit, but even so. His eyes look like a deer’s that’s caught in the headlights, and for a second Harry’s not absolutely sure if he’s going to run.

”Harry? Hey, what are you doing here? In Liverpool?” Louis doesn’t run, instead the corners of his mouth slowly pull up as he comes closer again and cautiously pulls Harry in to a hug.

Harry feels pathetically good when their cheeks touch briefly. He feels the actual feeling of being pathetic when he realises it’s their first hug ever and that he has to make a note of how Louis feels in his arms. Small, petite even, his cologne surrounding him and filling all of his senses.

”I kind of moved here, a week ago or so,” Harry chuckles, hugging Louis a bit more tightly.

They pull apart after, Louis’ face still showing surprise and Harry’s heart beating too fast for his liking. It feels surreal to see Louis standing right in front of him. Not just because Harry’s been obsessing over him for five days now, but also because it’s been a month and a half since they saw each other last in flesh.

Louis is tinier than he remembered.

”Really? What for?” The man takes one of the cups from Liam and sits down at the table, casually leaning back in his chair.

Maybe Harry would hear Liam’s rather loud sigh, if he weren’t so caught up in Louis’ presence, something he’d kind of denied himself to think about, because it had seemed like something that he would never be graced with again.

Harry sits back down too, and Liam pulls himself another chair to join the window table.

”Pedagogical studies,” Harry gestures at his books and papers scattered on the table, ”I start my assistant-teaching job next week. Paid-internship.”

”Really? That sounds absolutely amazing,” Louis says with a smile, a blinding one.

Harry wants to bring up the elephant in the room, well, the thing that feels like an elephant to him, though he’s not sure if it really is that because for all he knows, Louis could have just been busy for the week. After all, the man seems completely normal.

”Yeah. I’m just glad I got a job and a spot in the uni,” Harry admits. ”How are you two here? Shouldn’t you be in some fancy hotel conference room, making deals with the devil?”

Both Louis and Liam laugh at that, as if it’s some kind of an inside joke that Harry just doesn’t get. It’s okay though, because at least they are both smiling now.

”We have the morning off. We’re meeting with some rich capitalistic company people around three and then we’re off for the night,” Liam waves his hand around, pursing his lips, like it’s every day business for them. And it probably is.

”Yeah, we’re heading back to London tomorrow morning,” Louis confirms, his gaze locking with Harry’s, ”What are you up to tonight?”

Harry probably shouldn’t feel as excited as he does, but, well. He knows he’ll re-think about his words later, knows he’ll probably even regret them briefly. Harry’s smile is a toothy one, he can feel his dimples popping out and he wants to laugh out loud. He doesn’t.

”Nothing at all.”

”Right, so you’re coming to dinner with us,” Louis gives him another smile, before getting up, ”We’ll leave you to studying now. I’ll text you the time and place.”

”Yeah, sure,” Harry smiles again, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

”Was great seeing you, mate,” Liam sort of scrambles up while patting Harry on the back.

Louis’ face shows a bit of hesitation, before he bends down to give Harry a one-armed hug. Harry barely even has the chance to return it, before the man is already pulling away.

”See you,” he manages to call out after them, and they both throw him one more smile.

If Harry is able to concentrate on his studies much better now than before, he certainly won’t admit it to himself.

–

After four, Louis had texted Harry to meet him and Liam at a restaurant called Lox & Caper at 5.30. Harry leaves his apartment a little after half past four and even after walking around for quite a while, he arrives at the restaurant just ten past five.

”Hello and welcome to Lox & Caper.”

”Uh, hi,” Harry gives the waitress a small smile, ”My friend made a reservation? I believe it’s under Tomlinson.”

The lady checks her list, before nodding and giving Harry a dazzling smile. ”Right this way, please.”

Harry follows the perky employee to a corner table at the back and thanks her. The table is for three, an unwanted reminder of the fact that it won’t be just him and Louis. Even with all the convincing Harry has done with himself, he can feel his nerves crackling under his sticky skin. Seeing Louis after so many weeks feels easy compared to spending a night with Liam as well.

Harry knows Louis. They have talked countless times and awkward silences between them are basically ancient history, but Liam is practically a stranger to him. Harry did talk to the man a little on the plane, but even then he felt like Liam was guarded. Maybe he’s like that with all new people, Harry hadn’t taken it too seriously. Not everyone are as open and easy going as he can be. The situation is what it is, however, and he should be able to maintain a conversation for a whole dinner. Sure, Louis will be there to support him, but the thought still scares Harry, makes him squirm in his seat.

The clock is only twenty past and Harry has trouble staying still. He picks up one of the black menus on the table and starts going through it. The place is reasonably priced – Louis has probably been careful with that, Harry thinks with a smile on his face – and the variety is alright. Since moving to Liverpool Harry hasn’t really gone out to many restaurants or pubs, if not for the small budget then for the lack of company. Even though he’s nervous, he’s also kind of relieved to get out and about with someone other than himself for a change. After looking at the list for a moment, Harry decides on the House smoked salmon and then puts the menu in its place and lifts his gaze just in time to see Louis and Liam traipsing towards him. Deep breaths, Harry thinks, and gets up to greet his companions.

”Hi,” not wasting his words any more than necessary, Louis walks straight into Harry’s hug, and squeezes tightly, ”Great to see you.”

”Didn’t we just see each other?” Harry jokes, his hand stroking the older’s back, secretly enjoying the touch.

Louis lets out a noise of protest, but doesn’t actually argue. He pinches Harry’s sides, though, before pulling away. Liam’s watching them with keen interest, but as soon as Harry offers the man his hand – for the second time today –, his face does this thing where he looks like he isn’t thinking anything, but at the same time you can see the wheels spinning inside his head.

”Good to see you made it,” the man says with a tight smile.

Liam’s strained posture doesn’t exactly help Harry to shake his nerves, but he still tries to smile the best he can. ”’Course.”

As the three sit down, Harry explains he’d arrived a bit early and that he’d already decided on what to order. Louis teases him by saying that Harry had probably been fretting about this the whole day, and as much as Harry would like to deny that, all he can manage is a roll of his eyes.

”Have you ordered something to drink?” Liam asks, politely changing the subject, and only then Harry realises that no one even offered to take his order.

”That’s a bit weird,” the youngest says, his eyebrows raised, ”They didn’t even offer to bring me any.”

Louis frowns at that and waves his hand to call a waitress to them. ”Louis please, you don’t have to,” Harry pleads, sensing that the man isn’t about to just let it go.

The waitress makes her way to them, smiling politely and Harry can feel jitters in his stomach, Louis’ face changed to something much more darker Harry’s ever seen on him. He’s gotten very used to the older being bright and laughing, so this man looks like a whole other person, someone with everything in their hands. He looks like a king on his throne, as if anything could happen if the man decides so. Something warm rolls in Harry's stomach, making him cross his legs under the table.

”My friend’s been here for a while now and no one offered him a drink,” something imminent shades the man’s eyes, ”I don’t only pay for the food, but also for the service. I hope it reaches the level I expect it to,” Louis’ voice is serious, an octave lower too. The way he says the word ’ _hope_ ’ isn’t friendly, not even suggestive, just plain threatening. There’s something about the way his jaw is strained, how his eyes turn into a shade deeper blue, more intimidating.

Sure, Harry knows Louis is a businessman, bound to be influential and sharp, but to witness those things like this is completely different than hearing about them, imagining them. Louis gives off the feeling of authority, and for such a small man he’s impressive. (Harry can never say that to Louis.) The younger can understand how Louis has managed to gain his clientele, his voice alone holding that _something._ Harry doesn't think he'd ever be able to be like this, so confident and determined. The waitress seems to be embarrassed, squirming under Louis’ intense gaze, and starts apologizing profusely.

”What can I bring for you? The drinks will be free of charge, of course.”

Louis turns to look at Harry with an expectant expression on his face, the same strictness still there. _A king_ _._ Something scarily tingling and demanding tugs at the younger’s heart.

”Water is fine, thank you. And it’s really not a big deal,” he ignores Louis’ knitted brows and the turmoil inside himself as he offers the girl a warm, tilting to apologetic smile.

Liam cuts in to order a pint and Louis follows after him, settling on water.

”Have you already decided on what you’ll order?” the lady asks with her notepad and pen in her hands.

”I think so, yeah,” Liam nods, surprising Harry. The two had just arrived and he doesn’t remember them even touching the menus.

”We’ll both take the warm roasted vegetable salad,” Louis says with a smile, the unyielding businessman suddenly replaced with the charming, smiling man Harry’s grown accustomed to.

”Okay, thank you. And for you, sir?” The woman looks at Harry now, and much to his embarrassment it takes a moment for him to collect his thoughts. Harry isn’t bringing his a-game today.

”Ah, yes. House smoked salmon, please.”

”Very well. Thank you and sorry again for the delay on the drinks,” the waitress smiles at them once more, before hurrying away.

”Have you been here before?” Harry asks, curious.

”We have our regular restaurant in every city we visit often,” Louis explains and waves his hand aimlessly, ”Lox & Caper is Liverpool’s.”

Liam nods and asks Louis if he remembers their last regular restaurant, the one that called it a day couple of years ago. They talk among themselves just for a moment, but in that moment Harry manages to see a lot of their friendship. Louis talks about Liam often, but the whole relationship has been a little unclear until now. He knows Louis originally got to know Liam when he hired the man to be his assistant, and for some reason it feels funny to Harry that someone’s employee can also be their best friend. The dynamic between the two is tactile, however, and even just with that short conversation Harry can see that there’s a deeper understanding between the men. It makes Harry want to get along with Liam even more than before.

It’s silent for a moment before Harry decides to try and make some conversation, the feeling of needing to please lurking at the corners of his mind.

”How did that meeting earlier today go?”

”It was alright. Those kind of meetings just tend to be a bore,” Louis sighs exaggeratedly.

”Liam, how do you get him to go in the first place?” Harry laughs, gesturing towards Louis, who gapes at him and mouths ’ _traitor_ ’.

And yes, Harry is ready to throw Louis under the bus as many times as needed to get Liam at least somehow to open up his mind towards him.

”It’s not always easy, trust me,” Liam grins, but Harry can still feel the hesitation, the man’s posture reserved and his eyes guarded.

Someone brings over the food and the table settles into another silence. To Harry’s luck Liam is awful with heavy air and awkward glances, something Harry had known from Louis' stories, but hadn't ever thought would actually be this thankful for.

”Did you get any studying done?” the man asks, his tone polite.

For some reason Harry feels like Liam might not be that fond of him, even though he’s pretty sure he’s never said anything out of line to him. If Louis hadn’t told him Harry calls him the teddy bear man, that is, and somehow even then Harry feels like Liam isn’t the petty type. Someone being polite wouldn’t usually result in Harry thinking that person doesn’t like him, but he _knows_ Liam’s holding back. Fitting into Louis’ life suddenly feels like a really important thing and Liam’s the man’s closest friend. Harry’s not sure if Louis’ aware of the tension between them, but if he is, he’s not showing it.

”Yeah, lots actually,” Harry nods, polite as well, though it feels unnatural. Finally Louis seems to kick into move.

”Harold here is an A student, did you know? He loves to read and thus studying is his second nature,” Louis smiles at Harry, in a proud way that should make Harry blush with delight.

Any other time Harry would feel humbly embarrassed about the praises, but right now all he can feel is horror. Liam doesn’t seem too impressed with Harry’s passion for studying and it makes him uneasy. He doesn’t need that right now, feeling insecure enough as it is. There are times when Harry’s self-confident, charming self that he’s so carefully built up in the course of few past years, gives room to the Harry everyone in his past is familiar with. The one with his pudgy cheeks and shy smiles, constantly wanting to please everyone around him.

”I like to study and read, yes,” Harry nods, changing the subject then, ”What about you Liam? What do you do on your time off?”

If Harry’s learned anything from his mother, it’s to always show interest in other people if you want to make them like you. Harry’d used that skill often in his past and it has proven to be a handy piece of advice.

”Me? Well, you know,” Liam shrugs, even a small smile on his lips now, ”I like to hit the gym and hang out with my mates. Sometimes I – ”

”Did you actually just say ’hit the gym’? You’re a real thug, aren’t you?” Harry has FaceTimed with Louis enough times to recognize the mischief in his eyes.

Liam doesn’t seem too fazed, only looks at Louis in complete silence as Louis keeps making jokes about ’gansta Liam’ and whatnot.

”You done now? Great,” Liam fakes a smile, before turning back to Harry, ”As I was saying, sometimes I do a little bit of photographing, too.”

Photographing. Okay. Harry can work with that.

”Really? I’m bit of a photographer myself,” he leans forward in his seat, and explains to Liam how he’s been interested in landscape photographing since he turned fifteen. Louis seems interested too, Harry notes. He goes on about the pictures he’s most proud of but makes it clear that he’s no professional.

”What kind of photos d’you take?”

”I’m more of a people photographer. Mainly with Zayn, my boyfriend. He’s really photogenic, like a Greek God. And I’d be saying that even if I wasn’t biased,” they all laugh, ”Though, I’ve done a couple of model shoots for some friends, too. Like, for their portfolios and stuff.”

”Really? I reckon you’d have been in front of the camera rather than behind it,” Louis says with mock impressed expression, which seems to put Liam off a little, though Harry thinks it’s nothing too serious. Seems like it never could be between the two of them and Harry feels a little envious.

”You do have the looks for it, for sure,” Harry admits too, ”But I figured you’d have some kind of secret passion for some art at least. The way you talked about your boyfriend and his art on the flight, I just thought, you know.”

Liam blushes a little, Harry swears. ”Yeah well. Zayn got me to buy a proper camera just six years back or so.”

Harry smiles, something inside him making him feel warm. ”I’d really like to see some of your photos sometime.”

”Yeah, absolutely,” Liam nods eagerly and this time his smile is a real one.

Even though having felt like Liam doesn’t like him for the whole evening, Harry thinks he can see an opening, a small crack in the man’s wall of bricks he’s obviously built around himself, as if he’s afraid Harry might woo himself into his life.

Louis gives Harry a smile when their eyes lock over their glasses. Harry feels a bit tipsy from the shared look, but even more so surreal, being here with these people, especially with Louis. He’d already settled for having Louis as his so called internet friend, yet, there the man is, an arm’s length away with his high cheekbones and blue eyes. Harry feels like Louis is much more magnetic than the man gives himself credit for. He thinks the older could impress anyone with his suit on, his jaw set and eyes serious, but even more so he’s _sure_  that anyone would be long gone if they saw Louis’ smile.

”I need to use the loo, I’ll be back in a sec,” Liam says after a while of comfortable silence, the only noise coming from knives and forks clanking against plates.

The man gets up and heads for the toilets, leaving Louis and Harry alone for the first time. It makes Harry nervous, for no reason, probably.

”How have you been?” Louis asks, his voice a lot softer and quieter than Harry’s heard it all night.

A sense of familiarity travels through Harry as the other leans forward in his seat, his expression open and interested. He looks exactly the same as every time they’ve called each other, in the dark of their bedrooms, lamps on their bedside tables the only source of light, and Harry thinks he’s missed Louis quite a bit more than he originally thought.

”Nervous,” Harry admits, ”You haven’t really been available, so.”

Louis’ face falls a little and he averts his gaze, although just for a moment. The taller isn’t sure what he’s supposed to make of it, but his mind’s mean and keeps reminding him of the past he has with new people. Harry curses it away, stubbornly.

”I know and I’m sorry, Harry,” he sounds genuine, and Harry isn’t even mad at him, but he still feels relieved.

”I’m not mad, Louis. I was worried, kind of feared the worst,” the younger offers a halfhearted smile and Louis frowns.

”That I was dead?”

The younger can’t help the sudden burst of laughter escaping him. ”Fuck you,” he then snorts, ”I thought that you, you know, that you’d gotten sick of me or realised that I’m too young and immature for a friend,” Harry shrugs, a little embarrassed.

Louis lets out a small chuckle, leaning his chin on his palm.

”Oh, Harold. You are not immature, you’re one of my best friends. Also, age will never matter to me, promise.”

Louis’ eyes sparkle, as cliche as it sounds. His smile seems the most real it has been all day and Harry wants to hug him very much. They have established the fact that they’re both sappy idiots a long time ago, but this is a bit too syrupy even for Harry.

”After the dinner, could we go for a walk or something?” Harry suggests, hoping Louis won’t find it offensive how Harry wishes to be alone with him and by wishing so, wanting to ditch Liam.

Louis raises his eyebrows, but it’s so brief someone could have missed it. ”Yeah, sure, yeah.”

”Wouldn’t have guessed it’d be such a long line,” Liam sighs exasperatedly and shakes his head, as he sits down, completely unaware of the previous mood surrounding Harry and Louis.

”So, Harry and I are going to take a walk after the dinner,” Louis not-so-swiftly ignores Liam’s bathroom comment and Harry finds himself wondering about their friendship once again. He still thinks it must show somewhere that Louis is Liam’s employer.

”Oh,” either Liam is really shitty at hiding his surprise or he doesn’t even try to. Either way he looks between Louis and Harry, his gaze not only interested, but also a bit suspicious.

The man seems to be waiting for something. He’s looking at Louis with trained eyes, but Louis only smiles and puts some food into his mouth.

”Okay. I guess I’ll just head to the hotel first then,” Liam eventually says, and Harry’s glad he doesn’t have to know what exactly it is that Louis and his assistant share with their eyes.

Despite the odd moment, the three make a nice dinner out of it, even ordering dessert. Harry thinks he could definitely get used to seeing Louis like this every week, maybe every day even. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the thought, however, fully intending to enjoy the good company he’s in. Louis’ soft, blue eyes find his every now and then, and it feels like something’s shifted inside Harry. He ignores it and tells many poor knock-knock jokes.

-

_[Angus & Julia Stone - Chateau ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1CxoHCwwmaXHimhV2cyTBx) _

Louis feels happy. Any other night he would probably put it on the good food he’d eaten or maybe just all the laughter, the jokes and whatnot, but not tonight. As hard and scary as it might be to admit, Louis knows the happiness doesn’t stem from any of those mundane things, things he gets to experience on regular basis.

This happiness he’s feeling, it’s all Harry. They’ve been walking around for over an hour now and although Louis is pretty sure he’ll have blisters on his feet tomorrow, he can’t think of any other place he’d rather be than here, with his friend.

”So Dusty is alright now? The shock of moving to a small apartment has passed?” Louis has never been more interested in a cat in his whole life.

”Yes,” Harry assures, laughing, ”He’s a big boy already. And wants to meet you, by the way.”

Louis grins and promises he’ll stop by the next time he’s in Liverpool. A small silence settles over them, but it’s the good kind of a silence. Louis has a lot of things he’d want to say to Harry, asking Harry to meet up with him again being one of those things, but at the same time he really just wants to be here, quietly, and look at the man in front of him. It might sound crazy, but Louis can’t remember when was the last time he’d felt this separated from his daily life, and it feels good. Exhilarating, even.

Of course it’s not just that. Harry’s an amazing person with his stupid puns and way too long stories that Louis can’t really get enough of. And it’s not even _that_ , because right now they’re standing next to each other, silently, and Louis still feels so good, happy.

”So,” the taller begins, a start of a smile overtaking his lips, ”You were pretty impressive earlier. With the waiter.”

A surprised laugh escapes Louis, his eyes crinkling. ”Really? I was so sure you thought it was unnecessary.”

”Oh, I did,” the younger smirks, ”One hundred per cent. You probably made her cry,” there’s a scolding tilt to Harry’s voice. ”But it was impressive, still.”

Louis hadn’t thought about it much, just done what he’d do in any other restaurant he’s a customer at. Maybe it’s something his father used to do, always very pedantic over these things. It bothers the older a little, the realisation. He doesn’t want to end up like Troy, not in the least, but that thought isn’t something he wants to be wasting his time on, not when Harry’s right there, smiling, amused, next to him.

”If you think I was impressive, then why are you laughing, Harold?” he forces his tone playful and notices how the small, almost inaudible giggle is contagious, the warm feeling tickling at the bottom of Louis’ spine again.

”I’m not laughing,” the other denies, shaking his head, ”It was just a bit confusing. You’re always so bright and easygoing when you’re talking to me. I guess I hadn’t really grasped the idea what businessman-Louis is like.”

The older raises his right brow, tilting his head. ”There’s different Louis’? What’s businessman-Louis like, hmm?”

Harry seems to go a little shy, his cheeks catching some colour at the words. He shrugs, his eyes flicking somewhere past Louis instead of meeting his gaze. ”Pretty convincing. Determined.”

”And I’m not? Usually, I mean,” the other raises his brows, now teasing evident in his voice.

The younger picks up on it and rolls his eyes, nudging Louis’ shoulder gently. ”Fine. I won’t talk ’bout it if you’re just gonna be like that.”

Louis has every single intention to continue teasing his friend, but the words sort of disappear from him, Harry’s soft curls a little messy from the wind framing his clearly happy face, his green eyes bright and lively. His good-mood, despite Louis’ kindhearted taunting, spilling out of him sneakily, dribbling on the street and all over Louis. It’s sort of mesmerizing.

”Is it weird that seeing you like this has absolutely made my day, probably even the whole month from here on?” Louis squints his eyes, a sly smile on his lips.

Harry breaks into a grin and turns his gaze to the ground. Louis thinks he’s feeling bashful. ”I don’t know. If it is, then that makes two of us.”

”Well,” Louis sighs melodramatically, ”I have to say I didn’t see this coming when you first spoke to me on that plane.”

”This? Meaning?” Harry’s all smiles and it’s bloody unfair because it makes Louis all smiles, and Louis is _not_ all about smiles, ever. It hurts his credibility as a 36-year-old.

”Meaning,” the older rolls his eyes, throwing his other arm around Harry’s shoulders, though with difficulty, ”that I’d be here, in Liverpool and free willingly considering coming back.”

”You don’t like Liverpool?” Harry fakes a gasp, his left hand taking a hold of Louis’ hand that’s resting on the taller’s upper arm.

”It’s not my favourite city,” Louis grimaces, but hurries to make amends, ”But. On a better note, we could always meet somewhere nicer.”

Harry raises his brows, faux-challengingly and drops his hand from Louis only to cross his arms on his chest.

”What makes you think I’d want to see you again?”

”Because I’m your favourite person in the whole world?”

”You’re not. My mum is. And then my sister,” Harry smiles innocently.

”So what? I’m only your  _t_ _hird_  favourite person in the world?” Louis scoffs, dropping his arm from around Harry as well, to mimic his friend’s pose.

”No. Dusty is the third. You’re the fourth, if that.”

Harry has to bite down on his lower lip and even then he can’t help bursting into laughter as Louis wraps his arms around the taller man and pulls him closer to tickle his sides. Harry laughs loudly, trying to wriggle away, but Louis’ hold is rather strong. The younger probably can’t even feel the tickles through his jacket, but he laughs nonetheless.

”Fine! Fine! You beat Dusty. Please stop,” Harry pleads until Louis finally settles down, still holding the other captive in his arms.

”Of fucking course I do, Styles,” Louis tries to keep his tone serious to his best ability, ”I’m not gonna lose to a bloody cat, am I.”

Harry’s dimpled grin settles down to a smile, as he turns to face Louis in between his arms. They’re both smiling and Louis thinks it’s nice. Being happy, laughing to something else than just Niall’s sad flirting attempts or to Eleanor’s friend’s cousin’s wedding pictures. This feels real and like something that Louis will remember for the rest of his life.

”Where do you want to meet next then?” Harry asks lowly, almost whispering.

And yeah, whisper-y Harry is one of Louis’ favourite Harrys. Voice quiet and raspy, soothing in a way.

”Well,” he coughs, trying to keep his voice down, too, ”I would suggest something like Paris, but I have a feeling your budget isn’t quite big enough, so maybe Manchester?”

Harry laughs softly and nods, his eyes green like two emeralds, shining under the glow of a wavering streetlight. _Beautiful_ , Louis thinks, but doesn’t dare to say anything.

”I’m happy we ran into each other, Lou,” Harry sighs after a moment.

”Me too, Haz,” Louis finally lets his arms fall by his sides, releasing Harry, ”And I’m sorry I just went MIA on you. That wasn’t nice of me.”

Harry frowns and squeezes Louis’ arm reassuringly. ”Hey, it’s okay. I get it, you’re a busy man. I’ve been busy too, so don’t worry.”

Louis tries to smile, but it’s not easy like it should be. Guilt keeps knocking on his door, even though he’s done everything he can to push it away. He freaked out, as much is clear, but he doesn’t want to voice it out to Harry. It would only cause more confusion and awkwardness between them, and yeah, maybe Louis is selfish for wanting to keep Harry separated from his daily life like that, for wanting to keep Harry as his happy place, or well, person.

”Look, Lou,” Harry pulls Louis in for a hug, catching him off guard, ”I’m just glad I’ve found a friend like you. You’re funny and witty, for a grandpa.”

Louis swats at Harry’s arm childishly, making the other laugh. They’re cheek to cheek and Harry feels warm against Louis. Something about this world seems to be in place when they’re like this, and maybe it’s not completely normal, but to be frank Louis doesn’t want normal anymore. He likes being different, different with Harry.

”You make me feel younger,” Louis admits then, quietly, as though hoping the wind would maybe take the words away before they reach Harry’s ears.

Louis can feel Harry smiling against his cheek, though, and knows he’s been heard. ”So that’s what I am to you? Some shield against middle-age crisis? I feel cheap, Louis, cheap.”

Louis snorts, rubbing at Harry’s back, before pulling away again. ”Yeah, you know. I was going to buy a new, red shiny Ferrari, but then I met you and well, isn’t that the same,” Louis shrugs, earning a blinding smile from his friend.

”You know what they say,” Harry looks away, a smug look on his face, ”Only thing better than a young friend is a young lover.”

”What are you talking about? That is not something people say,” Louis laughs and shakes his head.

Harry pouts at him and says: ”I do. Often, too.”

”How many older friends do you have then, hm?” Louis smirks, reaching out to tap Harry’s chest in a patronizing manner.

The taller one swats his hand away, rolling his eyes. ”At least three.”

”Not counting your mum, Harry.”

”Okay, two.”

”Or grandma.”

”Fine! One.”

Louis raises his eyebrows at the man, who just turns his gaze away, jutting his lower lip out. Harry is absolutely ridiculous, but Louis doesn’t mind one bit. On a whim he reaches out and gives Harry’s cheek a stroke, startling the other one to turn back to him.

”You’re stupid,” Louis sighs, locking gazes with the man.

”’m not. Very offensive,” Harry mutters, leaning in to Louis’ touch.

”I am,” Louis confirms, ”but you love me anyways.”

Harry smacks his lips in response and throws him a smile, a shy one. They’re pretty close to each other and Louis kind of wants to stay here for the rest of the night, but he’s got an early morning. Even if he’s out for the night, poor Liam is still stuck at the hotel and will probably want to leave early to spend his day off with Zayn.

”I think I should go.”

Harry closes his eyes for a second, and something inside Louis keeps hoping he’ll say something other than just ’okay’ or ’I know’.

”Yeah,” the younger nods, detaching himself from Louis’ touch. Louis feels unsurprisingly cold.

As Harry stands there, a few steps away from him, Louis lets his thoughts loose just for a moment, allowing himself to have this, whatever this is, for just this minute, maybe two. Harry looks gorgeous with the light illuminating his face and somewhere along these couple months they have known each other, those curls and eyes have come to mean something like  _freedom_ and _j_ _oy_ to Louis and he knows it’s all because they’ve let things just be. They haven’t had any pressure about meeting or calling, it all comes naturally to them and it has felt beyond great. Louis hadn’t really even thought about seeing Harry, like arranging a meeting, besides some fleeting moments where they had joked about something related to Louis meeting up with Dusty or something equally as meaningless.

It’s different now. Now that he’s seen Harry again, remembers how Harry looks, feels and simply what it is to be with this person, he wants to have all that again. Soon, preferably. So it’s all because of this minute of letting his thoughts loose that causes the next words to slip from his mouth.

”Let’s set a day.”

”Huh?”

”When we’ll see each other again,” Louis specifies.

”Maybe we’ll just sync our calendars,” Harry teases, but gets more serious right after, ”No, but honestly, whenever’s fine with me. I’m not particularly busy.”

Louis knows he probably should check his schedule with Liam before making any plans, but he feels like if the moment will pass, he worries he won’t know how to ask this again. It’s foolish, Louis knows as much.

”The last weekend of October. I think I ought to be free then,” Louis says after a while of searching through his brain. He thinks Liam told him that that’ll be his only full weekend off before Christmas.

”Sounds good to me,” the curly haired man nods, hiding his smile with his sleeve.

Harry looks young, Louis thinks, as he pulls the other in to one more brief hug. Harry gives Louis’ cheek a small peck and pulls away.

”Good night, Harry.”

”Good night, Lou.”

The last thing Louis sees before he turns around and walks the other way is Harry clad in a woolen jacket and his brown go-to boots, waving like a five-year-old. Louis smiles the whole way back to the hotel.

 

– **October 21st, Thursday**

Louis loves Abbie with all he’s got and he knows his daughter wishes he’d spend more time at home, but in his current situation it’s impossible. That is why Louis has set one day in every month when he takes Abbie out to do whatever the girl wants to do with him. Louis knows it doesn’t make up for all the missed evenings and movie trips, but he tries. Last month they’d gone to bowling (turns out Louis sucks at it) and today Abbie had wanted to go swimming.

They’d done just that and it had surprised Louis how much he enjoyed it. It’s been a rather long time since he last went to a public swimming pool, and it turned out to be a great idea. He thinks he might make a reservation for a spa hotel in Manchester for him and Harry, even.

After swimming for a couple of hours, Louis wanted to take Abbie for a late lunch to some café, maybe wanting to stay away from the house just a bit longer. Louis’ eating a sandwich, something Eleanor would never approve of, because ’ _it’s not food, Louis’_ , while Abbie’s eating a Caesar salad.

”And then Phoebs and Daisy just switched back, like nothing happened. Some teachers can really be blind, I’m telling you,” Abbie chuckles and makes Louis laugh, too.

It always warms the man’s heart to hear Abbie talk about his sisters. It had been one of Louis’ top priorities when choosing a school for Abbie, that they’d all be going to the same one. He wanted to ensure his little one would never be on her own.

”I think our neighbour Mrs. Allen still doesn’t know which one is Phoebe and which one’s Daisy. She never addresses to them by name,” Louis says, taking a bite from his sandwich.

”I don’t think very many people know who is whom, if I’m honest,” Abbie seems thoughtful, ”Only the closest friends and family, probably.”

”It’s good Ernie and Dottie aren’t the same gender,” Louis admits, thinking back to how it had annoyed the girls when people mistook them for the other when they were still little, but at the same time they’d never wanted to look different, both content with having a twin-sister. Eventually they’d started using different colour hairbands, just to avoid the mix-ups.

Abbie agrees with a hum and then asks Louis about his trip to Liverpool, surprising her father a bit. He hadn’t talked about it at home at all. ”Uncle Liam mentioned you ran in to a friend there. I didn’t know you have friends in Liverpool.”

”I didn’t, before. My friend, Harry, moved there just some weeks ago,” Louis explains, a tad uncomfortable talking about the subject even though rationally thinking there’s nothing bad about it.

Even though Louis spends a lot of time travelling, Abbie’s been very well caught up in his life. The girl knows who are Louis’ closest friends and which are the places Louis loves to visit the most. Abbie’s always been a curious cat, asking lots of questions and wanting to keep up with her busy father. Louis had always appreciated that and tried to do the same with Abbie as well, even though it had gotten a bit harder now that she’s reached the delicate teenage.

”Harry? That’s a new name,” Abbie points out, just as Louis assumed she would.

”Yeah? I haven’t mentioned him before, I suppose,” Louis aims for a neutral tone, and thinks he manages it pretty well.

”Where’d you meet?”

”On a plane, couple of months ago. He’s quite a bit younger than me,” Louis says with a small smile, prompting for Abbie’s next question.

”How old?”

”Twenty-three.”

”What? That’s closer to my age than yours, dad,” Abbie looks half amused and half horrified, and Louis can’t help but laugh.

”I know. He’s really mature, though,” Louis assures, ”I think you two would hit it off pretty well.”

”This isn’t you trying to pair me up with anyone, is this?” Abbie scrunches her nose in distaste.

”God, no. That’d be just plain weird,” Louis frowns at the thought, shaking his head at it, ”I will never pair you up with anyone.”

”Aww, thanks dad,” Abbie bats her eyelashes at Louis, who gives her a sly smile.

”No problem kiddo. I assume you’ll become a nun as soon as you turn eighteen, so there’s no need for me to pair you up with rich, snobby kids.”

Abbie screeches and starts bashing Louis, she laughs and tells him how delusional he must be, and Louis feel happy, this version of his daughter probably one of his favourite ones. As Abbie keeps going on about it, Louis sacrifices a thought to Harry, though, seems to be incapable of stopping it.

They had just called last night and Harry had told him all about his new teaching job and how much he loves it, despite ’ _that one poorly raised kid in the back row_ ’ (the dense one, as Louis refers to him and Harry keeps telling him not to), whom Louis is sure he’ll hear more about once they see each other in a week. He’s pretty excited about seeing the younger again, trying to find a suitable hotel for them. Louis’ thinking nothing too fancy and he doesn’t have very much experience in booking a hotel room, seeing as it’s Liam’s job to do that for him.

”Are you even listening to me?” Abbie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

”Of course I was, love,” Louis says innocently and earns a swat to his arm.

”I’m your princess, aren’t I? You’re supposed to treat me like one,” the girl sticks her tongue out, and puts another forkful of salad in to her mouth.

”You are my princess, but I’m your king,” Louis says with as much authority as he can muster, ”So you shall not yap at me.”

Abbie bursts out laughing, and Louis follows right after her. A warm and raw feeling bubbles inside the older as he looks at his laughing daughter, her whole being radiating the kindness she’s grown to have in her. Her happiness is something he’ll never take for granted, the seven-year-old Abbie’s heartbroken face a constant image at the back of his head, when he’d left for yet another business trip. Louis loves his daughter and these days a lot, more than he can ever explain with words, and yet again he finds himself wishing he’d be able to spend every single second with this girl, _his_ girl. All the years he’d lost, the ones he won’t be able to give back or make up for, them all a burden inside the man. The heavy feeling is something Louis will never completely rid himself of, something he’s slowly, painfully so, learned to live with. But there are days when it’s harder, when he still hopes he could’ve given up the company right after Troy had passed away.

They eat in a comfortable silence for a while, both deep in their own thoughts. Louis and Abbie have always been the kind of a daughter and father that can sit next to each other, one reading a book and the other one doing a puzzle, and still enjoy that far more than just sitting alone. That would be considered hanging out when it comes to the two of them. After Louis finishes his sandwich, he speaks up again.

”So, how’s everything going then? With school, I mean?”

”Good. Got an A on my chemistry exam,” Abbie says casually, finishing off her salad as well.

”Really? Guess I should give you a couple extra pounds then,” Louis is already searching for his wallet, when Abbie stops him.

”No need. Mum already did.”

”Oh. Good.”

Abbie looks away and if Louis didn’t know his daughter as well as he does, he’d have missed that. Despite all the days the man’s spent in airplanes and conference rooms rather than with this girl, he’s still aware of the smallest signs Abbie shows when she’s lying or uncomfortable, maybe sad. Louis knows Abbie, like the back of his hand, despite everything. He’d made it his job, unwilling to let their relationship turn into what him and his father had had.

”What’s up Abbie?”

Abigail gives him a pained look, as if to ask ’ _do I really have to tell_ ’, to which Louis only fixes her with a certain stare.

The girl rubs her hands together, before scratching above her brow, her eyes carefully moving to Louis. ”Someone at school asked me when are you and mum divorcing.”

And _what?_

”We aren’t?”

It’s Abbie’s turn to fix Louis with that stare. ”I know you’re not happy, dad. I wouldn’t be mad, you know.”

”Abbie, who was this person? Do they know better what’s going on around our house than me and your mum?” Louis leans closer to Abbie over the table.

The girl shakes her head, even though she still looks like she’d want to disagree, ”It was just an old friend of mine. I guess she was trying to put me off.”

Louis frowns a little, displeased that his daughter has to endure something like this. He knows it’s part of being a teenager, though, part of growing up. Even the nasty people. Louis refuses to be one of those parents who shields their child from everything bad that could ever happen to them. Being in business has taught him that the world can, and usually will, be cruel on people, no matter how great and sweet they are.

”We aren’t getting a divorce, though,” Louis says, trying to reassure the girl.

”I know.”

”So what’s bothering you?” Louis asks again. ”Is it because I’m away so much? I know it’s difficult for you Abbie, but I can’t help it at this point.”

”It’s not that, dad, don’t worry. I’m used to this, okay?” Abbie offers a small smile, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. ”Sometimes I just think you guys would be much happier apart. Mum’s always alone, you know. And sometimes I think it makes her lonely, that’s all.”

Ah. So the girl’s worried for her mum. Louis guesses he should have seen this coming at some point, when Abbie would grow up to understand things more. It’s not like Louis and Eleanor haven’t discussed this, it’s not like Eleanor hasn’t ever cried about this either. Louis has spent countless nights telling his wife it’ll be alright and that he’ll be back before she knows it. The consoling is always a temporary solution, Louis knows that, but so far he’s been unable to find any better words.

”So it’s about Eleanor then,” Louis sighs, rubbing his temples.

”Not just her, dad. You too,” Abbie says quietly and really, Louis doesn’t want to spend his only full day with Abbie to swell on these things.

They aren’t things Abbie needs to worry about, just like she doesn’t have to worry about money or the bills. Louis and Eleanor’s relationship is between them and it’s their problem if they can’t conceal their discomfort well enough.

”Abbie, listen,” Louis takes his daughter’s hand in his own, ”Me and your mum have been together for fifteen years. We know how to do this, okay? You don’t have to worry about it. Promise me you won’t.”

Abbie looks hesitant, her eyes filled with sadness and something like guilt, which Louis doesn’t understand at all. After a moment the girl nods, though, and Louis gets up just enough to kiss her on the forehead.

”Good. Now tell me about that guy I heard you like from Daisy. Jonathan, was it?”

Abbie turns beet red and starts going on about how she’s never even heard the name and Louis’ heart feels a tiny bit lighter. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his girl, but this isn’t something he can fix alone. He’ll have to chat with Eleanor.

 

– **October 22nd, Friday**

”So you’re off again?”

Any other day, Louis thinks, any other day he could do this. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he could do it. Today, he can’t. He really doesn’t want to be moody once he arrives in Manchester, every moment spent with Harry precious to him.

”I told you I’m going to spend the weekend with a friend, El,” Louis refrains from sighing as he puts his bag in the backseat of his BMW X5 and slams the door shut.

”I don’t understand why you have to go,” Eleanor’s voice has that familiar desperate tone that only appears when Louis chooses to spend his rare day off with someone else than her.

Today it’s even worse, because this is a full weekend. Louis could have just told his wife he’s going to work, but lying isn’t really something he enjoys doing, even though he’d certainly get by easier like that.

”He lives far away and it takes time to drive there,” Louis simply says, turning to face the woman standing mere feet away from him.

”Why can’t he come here?”

”He doesn’t have the money to travel,” Louis finally lets out the sigh he’s been holding in the whole morning. ”Look, I’m going. We agreed on this a long time ago and frankly I’ve been looking forward to it. I don’t want to ditch him.”

Eleanor locks gazes with Louis and it’s a duel at best. Louis isn’t about to give up on this, he’s wanted to see Harry ever since he left the man standing under the streetlight a couple weeks ago. Nothing Eleanor says or does will change his mind. The years of doing this seem to have finally tired his wife out a little as she stands down rather easily. She gives Louis one more look, and it’s not filled with anger but something even worse: disappointment.

”Drive safe.”

With that the woman disappears in the house and Louis is free. Abbie has gone to spend the weekend with Eleanor’s parents and Louis is pretty sure Eleanor had intended for them to spend the weekend alone. It made things a bit awkward the previous night, when Louis had informed he’ll be leaving in the morning.He lingers for a moment, his thoughts swirling. Determinedly, he pushes them at the back of his mind, though, refusing to let this happen today. He’ll have time to fix it later.

Even though Louis feels a bit heavy right now, he’s pretty sure it’ll pass after he sees Harry, it always does. Consciously, he pulls a positive mood on as well as he can, not thinking about how he could be disappointing Abbie and how he definitely is making his wife sad.

–

The spa hotel Louis had booked a room for them isn’t anything too luxurious, only because Louis knows Harry would feel indefinitely bad if he were to book them in one of those hotels he usually stays at. It had been a hard task to even convince Harry to let Louis pay for the accommodation in the first place, so after Harry’d finally shown him the green light, he’d figured better not to push it.

They meet up in the lobby and Harry looks every bit as gorgeous as he always does. He’s tied his long curls into a bun and he’s sporting one of his trademark silky shirts, top buttons open. Louis feels a bit under-dressed with his blue jumper and black skinnies.

”Hey, you,” Harry practically squeals, as he pulls Louis into a hug.

”Hi. Did you get here okay?”

”Yeah, no problems at all. There was this really nice lady, Marjorie, in the bus who chatted with me the whole way here,” Harry grins, and yet again Louis is reminded how easy it is to make this man happy. It warms his heart.

”Oh? Is she your new best friend now?” The older raises his brows, amused.

Harry gives him an unimpressed look in return. ”Don’t fish for compliments, Tomlinson.”

The older laughs out loud, giving the other’s arm a gentle stroke. ”Are you excited for the weekend then?” Louis teases instead.

He can tell Harry is, only by the way the younger is fidgeting with his rings and cross necklace all the time and by the way his eyes keep sparkling, flitting from the pools that can be seen through a glass window to the reception and then back to Louis.

”I’ve never been to a spa before,” Harry defends as Louis tries to supress the urge to pinch his cheek.

”Well let’s go check in then.”

They go up to the reception and the lady behind the counter gives them an obviously practiced smile, but today it doesn’t bother Louis one bit. Instead he puts on a smile of his own and sorts out their room arrangements.

”Okay, we’re staying in one room, if that’s okay with you?” Louis offers one of the key cards to Harry.

”Yeah, definitely.”

The room isn’t anything too fancy, Louis specifically asked for something simple and average. The person in the phone had been mildly confused as Louis had been so adamant about it, but Louis had wanted to make sure it’s nothing too fancy. Maybe he’d overdone it on the phone a little, but he’s new to this kind of thing. Since when was it so important to him to impress a friend like this, he’s not sure.

”This is perfect,” Harry squeals as he throws himself onto one of the beds, shaped like a starfish.

A goofy one, at that.

Louis has seen hotel rooms much bigger, much more elegant and decorated than this one, but Harry seems happy and that’s all Louis’ asking for this time.

”Yeah, yeah it is,” the older admits, placing his bag on the floor, neatly right beside the wall as opposed to Harry, who’d just thrown his by the foot of the bed.

”How’d you find this hotel?” Harry then asks, getting back up to roam the room, checking the bathroom and the mini-fridge.

”Oh. A friend recommended it.”

Which is technically true, because Louis did ask Niall, who’d shrugged in response and told Louis to google instead because Niall ’ _had no bloody money to ever stay in a hotel_ ’ before he’d suggested Louis should stay in a tent to get some perspective. Many people had given this particular hotel a really good review online, but since it’s not a part of any big hotel chains, Louis had never heard of it before.

Kudos to Niall.

”It’s really cool. Oh, we have a balcony too.”

Louis follows Harry to the small balcony that actually shows off a pretty good view. The hotel stands on a small hill, providing a nice scenery either way, but their room is facing the city and since they are on the fourth floor, they can see a nice skyline, if that’s what you can call it.

”You’ve got a good taste for hotels, Tomlinson,” Harry grins at Louis as he leans on the railing.

”I’ve had practice,” Louis boldly lies, returning the gesture.

Harry glances at him over his shoulder, his piercing green eyes full of life and laughter. It’s only been a couple of weeks since they last saw, but Louis feels like he hasn’t been living at all during that time. It’s as if Harry’s presence is equivalent to the sun during the darkest months of the year: Louis gets up and goes to work, but it’s all done like a routine, with no concentration whatsoever. But then the sun comes out and it’s easier to breathe and you get all this extra energy to do things.

”What’s the agenda for today?”

The curly haired man turns around, raising his eyebrows at Louis, who suddenly realises he should probably have planned something nice for them to do. Usually Liam does all that, but Liam’s not here and doesn’t in fact even know Louis is.

”Oh, this is a bit embarrassing, to be honest,” Louis chuckles, rather awkwardly, ”I didn’t plan anything. Just thought that we’d spend some time together and, well, Liam is the one to take care of planning usually, so.”

In response, Harry grins and rolls his eyes, as if he’d seen this coming. He’s not mad, not even disappointed, which doesn’t really surprise Louis at all, at this point.

”Don’t worry about it. Let’s just head out and go see the city. I’ve been to Manchester a couple of times anyways,” Harry shrugs, stepping inside the room again.

”You’re sure it’s okay? I can make a reservation to one of the good restaurants downtown, if you’d like?” Louis offers, wanting to put his own effort in to this, but at the same time hoping Harry would decline.

”Let’s just go and walk around. I think you’ll like it,” Harry says, his voice a tad giddy like a child’s.

Louis doesn’t argue further, just grabs his jacket and wallet.

”Lead the way then.”

–

Had someone told Louis four months ago he would be spending one of his valued days off traipsing around Manchester with a curly haired, 23-year-old man, whom he’d met on a plane only about three months prior, he’d have snorted and claimed them to be a lunatic. In fact, anyone who knows Louis would do that, without a doubt.

But here he is, sitting in front of a random small café that his companion had picked out, trying to shield himself from the wind and chatting away about a kitten called Dusty, who can’t seem to leave Harry’s side, about a garden that Harry’s mother, Anne, is so fond of, Harry thinks she might leave his step-dad to marry it and about everything that has absolutely nothing to do with Louis’ every day life.

”So how do you like Manchester then?” Louis asks after a small pause in the conversation, perhaps for the sole reason that he wants to hear more of Harry’s slow rumbling voice.

Harry seems to ponder for a bit, but then again it might just be one of those so called ’artistic pauses’ that the other does, to emphasize, Louis has learned.

”I like it. Doesn’t beat London, but it’s quite comfortable,” the man smiles, taking a sip of his herbal tea.

”How can a city be comfortable, Harold?” Louis snickers while stirring the small metallic spoon in his coffee cup.

”Why not?” Harry’s brows are furrowed as he leans back in his chair, throwing his right leg over the left one, in a very Harry-like manner. His arms are crossed on his chest.

Louis thinks he seems older in that moment, more mature than Louis likes to think him as. It doesn’t make Harry any less like-able, however, and that makes something twirl inside Louis.

”Well, I just think a couch or a bed can be comfortable. Or a silence between two people. You can be financially comfortable, but a city?” Louis scrunches his nose a bit, smacking his lips as if tasting the idea, and not quite being able to wrap his head around it.

Much to Louis’ surprise, Harry breaks in to a smile, his teeth and dimples suddenly at display.

”Sometimes you say things, I think, you don’t think through, Louis,” Harry uncrosses his arms and picks up the delicate, floral-patterned white cup from the table to warm his hands, ”You’re way more creative than that. A city can be comfortable, just like a whole house can be comfortable. Or, better yet, a person.”

Harry pauses and glances at Louis with meaningful eyes and Louis feels like he’s asking for permission to go on, as if the next words hold something of great importance to them, like Harry’s afraid to speak them. But maybe it’s just a glance, what does Louis know.

”Take you and I, for example. I find you comfortable, much like this city, actually,” there’s a gist of playfulness in Harry’s eyes that makes Louis smile down at his cup.

It’s ridiculous.

”Alright, I understand what you mean. Though I have to say, it is a bit disappointing that you ranked London higher than this city, because that would mean someone else is like London to you, correct?” Louis raises his brows at his friend who laughs and shakes his head.

”See? You’re creative, Louis. But no, you’re wrong. Can’t rank Manchester and London in the same category to begin with. Manchester isn’t a big city like London is. Manchester is smaller, more intimate. London’s for everyone to see.”

Louis inspects Harry, trying to figure out _how_ exactly did he stumble upon this man. It still feels absurd and what feels even more absurd is that he’s finding a side of him he thought he’d buried when he agreed to take over his father’s company. A side that his father wasn’t pleased with, because ’ _art does not make money_ ’.

”You’re quite a poet, Harold,” Louis eventually says, drinking the lasts of his coffee and giving Harry a smile.

”There’s barely anything I can’t do, Lou,” Harry says with a teasing voice, ”Just wait and you’ll see.”

Louis has no other choice but to start mocking Harry for his words and fake cockiness, and the moment is lost on them, which Louis isn’t sure if he’s thankful for or quite the opposite. Harry pokes at parts inside him that would probably be best left untouched in the neatly organised archives of his mind.

While Louis has a tendency to pick out his friends based on their natures, meaning that they are compatible with his own personality, with Harry it’s different. Harry defies everything Louis has come to know during the last twenty years of his life, every single rule he’s made up for himself, every single _truth_ he’s made up for himself. It’s scary to admit that, to see that, but it’s also thrilling in the best kind of way.

Louis is aware that Harry’s impulsive, more than he is anyways, and he’s young and ready to throw away his whole life to chase after his dreams. He’s aware that all this might be what eventually could drive them apart, but Louis is also tired of feeling numb. Harry reverses that curse Louis laid on himself years and years ago, and even with the chance that this might all go to hell one day, Louis thinks he needs to do this for himself, as selfish at it is.

”Okay, wonder boy, you’re spacing out again,” Harry pokes at his arm, waking him from his thoughts.

The man in front of him is pouting, looking like the 23-year-old again Louis has grown accustomed to.

”Did you- did you just call me wonder boy, Harry?”

Louis swears he’s never seen eyes more innocent than Harry’s in that moment, before the said man gets up and walks away swaying his hips like a common hooker, glancing over his shoulder and mock whispering ’ _no sir, I would never_ ’ before bursting in to a laugh.

”Think I need another coffee, Harry!”

 

  **\- October 23rd, Saturday**

”It was refreshing, I’m telling you,” Harry shakes his head as he pulls his black skinny jeans past his hips.

Louis turns his gaze away, like he tends to do when showing respect. Harry might not need that kind of respect, but for Louis it’s as natural as breathing, though this time his eyes waver a little.

”I can’t understand how you can call a water fight with three kids ’refreshing’, but fine, if you say so.”

”Not _that_ part. The whole spa experience. The last time I got a face mask and a massage from someone else than my mom was probably, well, never,” Harry laughs, zipping the pants up and grabbing his jacket from the bed.

”Well I’m glad you liked it,” Louis smiles at him, buttoning up his cuff links and earning an impressed look from Harry.

”I didn’t know we were going somewhere this fancy. Should I change?”

As Louis picks up his own jacket he tells his friend there’s no need since it’s Louis who’s overdressed, as per usual.

”I’m so bad at relaxing,” he huffs a laugh and motions for Harry to get a move on, ”Fancy dinners is what I do. This is just a friendly one. Pleasure, not business.”

Harry’s rather booming laugh fills the hallways as they make their way to the elevator and chat about nothing. Louis is feeling uncharacteristically nervous for some reason, and he’s been trying to push it away from his mind, with poor results. It’s not a bad kind of nervousness, but rather like this exciting buzz under his skin that warms him allover.

They’d eaten breakfast at the hotel and then gone out to shop for some souveniers for Harry’s family and Dusty while Louis had, unexpectedly, picked up a green scarf for Abbie. He’s not sure at all if she’ll like it, but he’d felt like she might. And anyways, it’s usually Liam who gets to pick Abbie’s gifts from their trips so Louis had felt a little bit proud of himself for making a find like this.

After shopping Harry had demanded they’d go to swimming since it was a spa hotel after all. Louis hadn’t objected, of course, so they’d spent a few hours at the pools, where Harry had played with some kids while Louis had sipped on a non-alcoholic margarita he’d bought from the pool bar. It had been fun, but the spa treatments had been by far Louis’ favourite part of the day so far.

The whole day had served to relax Louis, make him feel like he’s on an actual holiday. It’s been a long time since Louis has managed to leave work behind for such a long time, so needless to say, it has felt luxurious. Harry’s company has only made it better and Louis isn’t exactly sure why that is, but it might have something to do with the old side in Louis that the younger has managed to bring out.

Louis used to be an extremely out-going person back in university. He had friends more than he could count and he loved going out, meeting new people and the whole process of getting to know someone. _That_ is refreshing in Louis’ opinion. Or at least it used to be. Nowadays he tends to duck out from parties early to go home and sleep or avoid them altogether.

With Harry, Louis wants to get to know him. It doesn’t bother him that he has to drive 200 miles to see the man for two days, doesn’t bother him that the younger makes him stay up for hours to paint Louis’ nails for fun. He likes to listen to stories about little Harry running on the lawn with only his wellies on. It feels natural, him and Harry and those stories being shared.

”Alright, I think this is it,” Harry stops, halting Louis’ movement, too.

”It’s this close to the hotel? Thought it would be further away,” Louis admits as they make their way inside the old building made of red bricks.

A man leads them to their table and sets two menus on the table, leaving them alone with a promise of water.

The restaurant isn’t too cheap, Louis notices right away, but then again, he hadn’t chosen the place with budget in mind. He’d coerced Harry in to letting him pay for tonight, and though it had taken a lot of effort, Harry had eventually caved as Louis had promised he’d let Harry pay the next time. Louis thinks it was the ’ _next time_ ’ that got Harry to give in.

”If I didn’t know you make a shit ton of money, I would definitely think you’d be bankrupt after this,” Harry raises his eyebrows, eyeing the prices meaningfully.

Louis rolls his eyes goodnaturedly and tells Harry not to worry about it and choose whatever he likes. Of course the other picks one of the cheapest dishes, but Louis takes what he can get.

”This is absolutely the fanciest restaurant I’ve ever been to, you know,” Harry shakes his head as he takes a sip of his water, ”I wonder how much the water costs.”

”Don’t. Stop thinking about the prices and whatnot. I can guarantee you, I’ve got the money for this and my bank account won’t even feel it, promise.”

”I know that, I do,” Harry nods, smiling a little, ”But money means different things to me than it does to you. But I promise I won’t make a big deal of it.”

Louis doesn’t push the topic, as he’s learned to do with Harry, and so they order some starters and main courses, leaving the topic behind them. After the waiter has gone, the two chat about Manchester as a city, Louis asks if Harry would visit it again in a holiday sense and Harry replies with a ’yes’, but goes on to explain that Manchester is still not the number one place for him. Even though Louis likes Manchester a lot himself, too, he’s more keen on just hearing Harry talk, and even more so seeing him talk. His hands gesturing around, molding the words into shapes and figures. It’s fascinating in Louis’ opinion.

By the time they receive their main courses, they’ve moved on to memories rather than present events. It’s fun for Louis to hear about Harry’s high school experiences seeing as it’s not been a very long time since the man graduated.

”And he was your first boyfriend? Wow. Wouldn’t have guessed you to be into academic guys like that,” Louis muses, earning a scandalized look from his companion.

”First of all, rude,” Harry deadpans, but Louis knows he’s not serious, ”And second of all: what kinda guys did you think I’d be into then?”

Louis places his cutlery down to take a sip of his water, and to have a moment to ponder on what he should say, what’s safe to say. ”I don’t know, maybe I thought you’d be more into, like, jocks or maybe bad boy artists, kind of like Zayn?”

He poses it as a question, just to be on the safe side.

Harry seems amused by Louis’ presumptions as he smiles to himself and waves his hand around in a circle. ”The complete opposite, if I have to have a type. Why would you think I’d be into that, anyway? As far as I’m concerned, I consider myself a pretty nice guy.”

Louis has to laugh at that, but he can’t argue. Harry being a nice guy is the understatement of the year, though, but he won’t get caught on that. ”Opposites attract.”

”I don’t think that’s a fact, necessarily,” the younger argues, ”If you’re too different with someone, love alone isn’t enough to keep you together, I think.”

Louis raises his brows in surprise. ”Are you telling me you don’t believe in any of those sappy movies, Styles? Such as _Titanic_? Or _Grease_?”

Harry obviously senses the playful mocking in Louis’ voice and gives him a grin in return. ”I’m just saying that in best case scenario, two opposites, not too far from each other, _can_ complete each other, but often they just end up disagreeing on everything. Besides, in _Grease_ , Sandy did change for Danny.”

Louis purses his lips in thought. ”So what you’re saying is that opposites like, say, pieces from completely different puzzles, can’t complete each other, but the right pieces from the same puzzle, can? You know, because they share more.”

Harry shakes his head with a big smile on his lips. ”That is exactly what I’m saying.”

”You just keep surprising me,” Louis chuckles, taking a sip from his water glass.

”Talk about yourself, Tomlinson,” the other hums. ”What about you then? Did you have another great love before you met your wife?” Harry looks down at his taattod hands and then glances at Louis from below his brows, a small smile on his lips.

Louis lets out another chuckle, but it lacks humour. ”Great love, huh,” he smacks his lips. ”There was one, maybe. Not sure if it was a great love, but a love.”

The curly haired man leans forward, resting his arms on the table and raises a questioning eyebrow.

”Aren’t you curious,” Louis teases with a smirk.

”By nature, yes,” Harry admits easily. ”Tell me more?”

Louis has to open some pretty dusty boxes in his mind to answer that, to tell more. It has been nearly fifteen years since he’d last deemed it worth thinking about, thought it still mattered. He’s not one to stay hung up on someone from the past and even if he was, he never thought he’d have to go back to that time again.

”It was back in uni, before I met Eleanor. My best friend at the time, actually. We’d known each other for six-ish years, had always been close. I realised my feelings first, confessed and then we were a couple for two or so years, I think.”

”That’s all? _That’s_ your grand story about the only other love you’ve ever had?” Harry asks incredulously.

”Oh, I’m sorry. Thought you didn’t believe in grand love stories,” Louis laughs, taking another sip from the cool glass standing on the table.

”You can’t leave me hanging like this, Lou,” the younger whines, reaching for Louis over the table.

The older laughs a little louder, shaking his head. ”What’s there to tell? We were just kids. Broke up because we weren’t meant to be.”

”Tell me about her,” Harry pleads, ”Was she, like, special in any way?”

Louis twirls the glass between his fingers, looks at Harry with a calculative expression on his face, smile grazing his lips. For some reason he has to turn his gaze down when he speaks though. ” _He_ was special, of course. Aren’t all loves, though?”

Had Louis missed the beat of silence, he’d thought Harry was not affected by the statement at all, but alas – he heard it. He also noticed the small lift in the man’s eyebrows and how his mouth fell open just the tiniest bit, revealing his surprise.

”I guess, yeah,” Harry nods, and for a second Louis’ almost certain he’s not going to even ask about what seems to be the elephant in the room, ”He, though? I thought, or well, assumed. You know. Ah, well, one never should, right.”

Louis shrugs, still holding on to the glass. ”I was young back when I met El. We were both young when Abbie was born. Didn’t exactly plan it all that way.”

A silence falls upon them, Harry clearly observing Louis. Louis can’t say he minds, can’t say he minds because he knows Harry’s now looking at him with completely different eyes. He’s adding this whole another part to Louis’ character that he’d not known about before and that tends to take a moment.

”Do you ever– I don’t want to sound crude, but, do you, like, ever think about what could’ve been?” Harry licks at his lips, his eyes showing interest.

”Definitely, yeah.” It doesn’t take Louis a second to answer, because he still does, sometimes. ”I love my daughter, but back then I made lots of choices and my life would be a lot different, had I chosen differently.”

_[Aquilo - You There](https://open.spotify.com/track/3LSY9s9h6RmHRTXOtRA5oK) _

The younger nods, offering Louis sort of a comforting smile. ”I know what you mean. Had to make a hard choice or two myself.”

Louis raises his brows in interest. ”Yeah?”

Harry smirks, bashfully, almost. ”I don’t believe in movie love, one bit. But grand love – either that’s a thing, or I was brain washed for three years.”

A small pause follows where Harry wipes his lips with his fingers and shakes his head. Louis starts to understand how grand of a love they’re talking about, and now it’s him who’s re-creating his image of Harry.

”His name was Nick, or is, uh. He was a bit older than me, five years, or so. I was only sixteen when I met him through a mutual friend. He was charismatic and knew about stuff. Things I had yet to experience. For some reason he took a liking to me and we started going out. I was pretty insecure back then and Nick was really good at building my self-esteem.”

Harry’s still smiling, but it’s all kinds of wrong, not at all like the smiles Louis is used to getting from his friend. He wants to tell the other to just stop, to not tell him what happened, but that’d be selfish, seeing as Louis was the one to ask about it. He’d be brutal to make Harry rip open a wound that’s so clearly still tender, just to tell Harry to stitch it up again, because he’s too afraid to know what happened.

”But?”

”There’s always a but, isn’t there,” Harry tries to laugh, but it’s short and effortless, ”But. He was also demanding and controlling. Picky about what I should wear, who I should hang out with. Never violent, physically, I mean. But he wasn’t good. And I was going to leave him, we’d only been together for nine months or something. Then an accident happened. We were both in a car that got hit by another car. Our mutual friend, the one we met through, he, uh, he died. Matt.”

”I’m so sorry, Harry,” Louis whispers, his voice hoarse as he reaches for Harry’s restless hand. The man takes the hand and gives Louis a thankful smile, his green eyes glistening just a little.

”When a tragic event like that occurs, you start thinking about things. For me it was things like who are the people I want in my life and what do I want to do with it. You’d think I got the courage to walk out on Nick, but the opposite happened. Nick was there with me when we had to say goodbye to Matt, and he was my best friend, yeah? Nick felt what I was feeling and I thought I needed him in my life to make it okay again. So I stuck with him. And we shared a bond I don’t think anyone else could understand, than people who’ve been through a similar event together. So, it took me two more years to understand that the relationship wasn’t exactly what you call healthy.”

Louis feels bad for several reasons. He feels bad because he’d even asked about this whole thing. He feels bad for leaving such a big part, such a vital part, of his own story untold, because Harry’s just laid his heart out for Louis to see and Louis couldn’t open up about his biggest hardships, even though they certainly don’t match up to Harry’s. But most of all, Louis feels bad because he can’t take away the pain Harry has felt – still is feeling. Losing someone important and being controlled like that, Louis can only guess what it has done to Harry’s self-esteem and the image he has of himself.

”I don’t know what to say, other than that I’m so, so terribly sorry, Harry,” Louis tries, his thumb stroking the back of Harry’s hand.

The man isn’t crying, though his eyes are a bit red rimmed and he’s sniffling a bit, and he’s even attempting to laugh a little. ”It’s alright. It feels good, actually, to get it out. To say it out loud. I’m just glad if you don’t think I’m stupid for having stayed in a relationship like that or, like, think that I made it up.”

”Someone’s done that?” Louis hisses, desperately trying to wrap his head around the misery Harry must have been through, but he _can’t_ , because he can’t even understand who could mistreat this beautiful person in the first place.

”Some people, yeah,” Harry nods. ”They often assume that since I was young and inexperienced, I couldn’t know what a real relationship should be like. That it calls for compromises. But I can guarantee you, I’ve seen what a good relationship looks like.”

”I believe you, one hundred per cent,” Louis assures, offering a small smile, ”And I feel horrible that you had to go through that, honestly.”

Harry returns the smile, but shakes his head a little. ”I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t stayed with him. I like to think that what defines my life is that I left, eventually.”

Memories of his own past surface like light pieces of plastic in a river, easily, even though they weigh Louis down nearly every day of his life. He licks at his lips, turning his gaze to his and Harry’s joined hands. The younger’s is warm and comforting and Louis knows that if he ever wants to tell Harry the most embarrassing and humiliating secrets he has, the moment’s is now. He doubts he’ll ever have this again.

”Our past experiences can be very enlightening and they definitely shape the way we perceive the world,” Louis nods, choosing his words carefully before lifting his eyes to meet Harry’s twinkling ones, ”I’ve had a couple.”

”Yeah?” The younger’s voice is soft and quiet, he seems nervous.

Louis gives himself one more chance to back down, but Harry squeezes his hand reassuringly, as if he senses the hesitation in Louis. With a deep breath, the older chuckles, trying to push out all the negative thoughts about himself. ”I was twenty-six when I first started drinking so much it got out of hand. Two years before my father died. At first it would be me spending my nights off in the pub with some lads from work, ’ _having fun’_ , but pretty quickly it turned into me drinking at home, on the couch,” Louis shakes his head, ”In front of Abbie, in front of Eleanor. All of my friends started getting worried, but I was an alcoholic by then. There wasn’t a day I didn’t drink something.”

When Louis meets Harry’s gaze briefly, he can see the empathy there, can see how Harry feels the pain in Louis’ words. He has to turn his eyes away to continue, not sure if he’s got the courage to finish the story if he keeps looking at this young, still hopeful person in front of him. ”It was awful. And then there was this party, I think I was twenty-eight by then, the time’s a bit of blur to be honest. At the company. This is such a cliche,” he laughs darkly, ”But I went home with one of the secretaries. And that,” Louis meets Harry’s eyes again, ”Is the experience that has shaped me the most.”

The younger doesn’t look appalled, he doesn’t look like he’s about to accuse Louis of being a horrible father or husband. He looks _crushed_ though. Like someone had punched the air out of his lungs, made him incapable of speaking. Louis fears he’s made a mistake, fears he won’t see that familiar adoration in the younger’s eyes anymore. He goes to pull his hand away, insecurities climbing up his spine, but Harry’s hold tightens.

”Was it, um, after your father died?” He asks in a quiet voice.

Louis shakes his head. ”He was sick already, but it wasn’t about that. I was never close with him. I think it might’ve been the realisation of the fact that I’d have to take over the company once he was gone. I didn’t want to. But I don’t know if I can excuse my behaviour with anything.”

Harry nods slowly, his thumb caressing Louis’ hand. ”Why’d you get sober then? I mean, you don’t drink anymore, right?”

”No,” the older shakes his head again, ”I started going to AA-meetings after the fuck up happened. It was a wake-up call for me. El and I got through it, and I’m glad, but the best thing I’ve gotten out of sobering up is the appreciation I get from my daughter. That and myself, they’re the reasons.”

”I’m glad to hear that,” the younger offers Louis a small smile now, some of the sparkle returning into his green eyes, ”Alcoholism is an illness, the same as any other. It takes courage to get over it, it’s a demanding one for the person and their family.”

”Yeah,” Louis eyes Harry curiously now, ”You sound like you have experience?”

”My father was an alcoholic, too,” the younger nods, but he doesn’t seem too upset about that, just looks a little wistful, ”I don’t talk to him anymore, but I gather he’s sober as well now.”

”Sorry to hear that, Haz,” Louis rubs Harry’s hand in return, smiling sympathetically.

Harry shakes his head. ”It’s in the past now. Just like your problems with alcohol. I think you’re an amazing person despite everything. Or maybe even as a result of all that. Like you said, it’s shaped you. I _know_ you’ve learned from your mistakes.”

The older tries to find a sign of disappointment on the other’s face, but all he can see is genuine pride, warm eyes and a subtle smile. It looks like Harry’s made another realisation about Louis and even though Louis doesn’t exactly know what it means, he’s glad it seems to be positive, mostly. A weigh is lifted off of him as Harry shakes his head once more, a wider smile slowly spreading on his lips.

”You’re my favourite person ever,” the younger almost whispers, something like amazement in his eyes and Louis feels like he might be dreaming. He doesn’t dare to ask about it, though, just smiles bashfully at the table.

The older feels overwhelmed by Harry, and it’s not the first time. Someone this young has been through so much and has the heart of an angel and the insightfulness of a fourty-year-old. ”I want to meet your mother, Harry.”

The other looks surprised, to say the least. ”A bit of an odd moment to say that, if I’m being honest.”

Louis laughs and goes on to explain what he means. ”She’s brought you up. I need to know _who_ is behind this. I must.”

Now Harry’s laughing too, his curls bouncing on his shoulders and the corners of his eyes creasing. ”Fine. We’ll schedule that for some day.”

They joke for a while about Harry’s mum and about Louis wanting to take her out for dinner just to tell her how great of a job she’s done. Well. Louis jokes about it, while Harry blushes and laughs and absolutely resents Louis for being such a sap. It feels better now, Louis thinks.

They’re still holding hands when the waiter comes by to pick up the plates and to ask if they’d like any dessert. Louis insists on it and frankly, Harry’s warming up to the whole evening, to Louis, Louis thinks so at least.

As they keep chatting, now about more trivial things, Louis feels incredibly lucky for having met Harry. For being entitled to have such a wonderful person in his life. He admits he was pretty sure Harry was just another young man, still unaware of so many things related to friendships and relationships, he’d just always bypassed talking about his marriage and the problems in it altogether. He should’ve known that Harry’s insightfulness and nature was not just an illusion, but rather something so, very real, Louis can’t even now understand it.

He’d thought that Harry’s sort of his secret hideaway, the one person he comes to when he wants to escape the reality of life, but now he’s starting to see it from another point of view. Maybe Harry’s the realest thing in his life. Hideaway or not, maybe he’s just the realest thing in Louis’ life. The thing that makes everything clear instead of grey and blurry.

Yeah. Louis quite likes the sound of that.

 

**\- November 11th, Thursday**

”What’s the schedule for the rest of the week?”

Liam taps away on his iPad for a second or two before lifting his head. ”Why are you asking?”

The water in Louis’ glass has gone lukewarm and he wants to go home and spend the night with his daughter, maybe make a call to Harry and then fall into a peaceful slumber. The whole week has been exhausting enough as it is and right now Louis could do with some good news regarding their agenda for the week.

”No reason. Just tired, I guess,” the older shrugs leaning back in his chair, pushing the glass further away.

Liam gives him a sympathetic look, closing his iPad and laying it on his lap. He looks at Louis with worried eyes and Louis knows it’s not all about his tiredness. He has been tired because of work before. In fact it is more of a rule than an exception that he is. Liam’s been giving him these looks for a while now, since the weekend in Manchester, to be precise. Louis doesn’t know what to think about that.

”We can take it easier for the rest of the week. You only have two meetings tomorrow. I can have Dave handle the paperwork, if you’d like,” Liam offers, getting up from the armchair to fill Louis’ glass with fresh water from the mini-fridge.

”What about Saturday?”

”Nothing major. We were supposed to go over next month’s trips but we can do that on Monday too, while on the plane to Los Angeles.”

”Thanks,” Louis takes the water and gulps the whole glass in one go.

He feels Liam’s eyes on him and sure enough, the man is looking at him. His brown eyes are reflecting all kinds of emotions and although Louis is very, very tired, he doesn’t want to postpone this discussion any longer. He’s been doing that for weeks now.

”Just say it,” he eventually sighs, rubbing his temples.

”Say what?”

”What ever it is that you’re thinking. I can’t have this weird tension between us. I’m with you, all the fucking time, Liam,” Louis gives his assistant a pointed look, prompting the man to say what’s on his mind.

Liam pulls a chair for himself, his forehead creasing, with worry, Louis guesses. The man’s often distressed, but Liam’s never been awkward with him, ever. It’s made working more stressful for Louis, something he doesn’t appreciate.

”You were in Manchester with Harry, weren’t you?”

The question could be one of those questions that changes lives in the long-run, Louis can see Liam certainly thinks so. He himself feels a bit angry and frustrated that his own best friend, most trusted person after his mother would think he’d do something to hurt his family, especially without telling about it.

”Yes, I was,” Louis can hear the coldness in his voice as he speaks, ”Why?”

Liam looks like he wants to cower, but he doesn’t. Instead he straightens up a little, holding eye contact with his boss, challenging him.

”You know I hate to do this. You know I don’t– that I don’t believe you’d cheat or anything, considering everything. I just. You have been so stressed out lately, Louis. I need to know.”

Despite his defensive thoughts, Louis guesses he can’t really blame Liam. He’s brought this distrust upon himself by sneaking around, not telling where he’s been and with whom. And Liam’s not wrong about the history there either. But it doesn’t make hearing those words any easier, really. Especially since it’s the second time Liam’s confronted him about this and Louis feels like denying it once should be enough.

For a moment there before Louis answers, he wonders if there’s maybe some truth to Liam’s words. If maybe he feels more for Harry, if Liam’s right to be worried. He doesn’t quite understand his own actions either, so it’s no wonder Liam finds it peculiar. In fact, Louis would probably too, if he was to look at this from the outside.

”I’ve not cheated on Eleanor, Liam,” he looks away first, breaks the eye contact, ”I’m sorry you even have to ask, though.”

Liam seemingly relaxes at Louis’ words. His shoulders slouch a little, his jaw eases up and he leans forward in his chair to search for Louis’ gaze again. He looks at loss for words.

”What’s going on then?”

Louis wants to say that nothing is going on. Absolutely nothing. And that’s the truth, it is. But at the same time, he feels like this is one of those things he’s going to regret not sharing with his best friend. To keep this to himself, it means he’s hiding something. Harry isn’t someone he’s ashamed of. Quite the opposite, actually.

”He’s young, yeah?” Louis meets Liam’s gaze again, and judging by the expression on the man’s face, he must look desperate, ”He makes me feel young, too. Like I haven’t thrown away my whole life, working with something I’ve never truly even cared about. He has a spirit like I’ve never seen before. He – he makes me feel a little bit more alive, that’s all.”

”Why–” Liam pauses, sighs and twists the ring on his finger, ”Why didn’t you just say so?”

Louis scoffs, letting out a humorless laugh.

”Are you kidding me? Tell you and what? Realise how sad of a case I actually am?”

”You’re not, Louis,” Liam shakes his head, ”You’re just really exhausted. Tired of pretending to like this life, I can understand why. I’ve been tracking your every move for eight bloody years. You hate this.”

”It’s that obvious?” Louis cringes, ”I haven’t noticed it meself, Li.”

”I doubt many others have either. I just spend awful lot of time with you, mate.”

Louis manages a smile at that. He feels lighter, like he’d let go of a burden that he’d been carrying around for the longest time. He’s not sure how can it feel good to hear that he actually does hate his job, his life as it is, but it does. It feels natural.

”Tell you what, boss,” Liam takes a sharp breath before getting up with his iPad, ”Bring Harry to our Christmas party next weekend. He’ll get to meet the rest of your friends and that way maybe your life gets a bit more, I don’t know, easier.”

”Do you think that’s a good idea? Won’t the lads judge me for being friends with someone as young as Harry?”

”Judge? No. Tease? Definitely,” the assistant smirks at Louis before announcing he’ll be taking a coffee break.

Louis says nothing as the other leaves the room and closes the glass door behind himself. He’s absolutely not sure whether Liam’s idea is a good one, but maybe it could make things easier, more open. It’s not like Louis has to hide Harry. Until now he’s kept the man away from his everyday life intentionally, but maybe it’s time to bring the two things together.

He picks up his phone and texts Harry.

_Christmas party on the 20th. Wanna come?_

It doesn’t take more than a minute for Harry to reply.

**At your place?**

_Liam and Zayn’s._

**Oh, wow. Bringing your mistress to meet your friends, that’s something ;)**

Louis hums, amused, at the text and is about to reply to the banter, but Harry beats him to it.

**No, but jokes aside. I’d love to. I want to meet all the people in your life.**

_It’s just my friends. And probably my wife. My friends will tease you, too. About being a junior, you know._

**Let them. I’m looking forward to it!**

_See you then, H x_

The x is definitely unplanned, the older’s finger slipping to the letter without thought, but at the same time it feels pretty natural with Harry. The other doesn’t comment on it either, so Louis figures it’s all good.

He tucks his phone in to the breast pocket of his suit jacket and closes his eyes, gathering all of his strength. Louis knows he might’ve made a huge mistake just now, knows he might have dipped the delicate balance of his life, but the world hasn’t stopped spinning yet. Time still moves forward and nothing horrible has happened.

Maybe it’ll be alright.

–

Harry tucks his phone away, feeling the excitement rise in his chest. He hadn’t thought Louis would want him to meet his friends, even his wife, but now that it’s actually going to happen, Harry notices he’s been wanting to meet them for a long time already. Maybe ever since Manchester, ever since Louis’ honesty. It had blown Harry away, how open the older had ended up being and he just feels like the people in Louis’ life must be pretty great if they value the man the way Harry does.

He knows Louis must’ve been so nervous telling him about the alcoholism and it had _scared_ Harry for a second. Memories of his own past had risen out of nowhere, but in the end he’d had to look at it objectively. Louis wasn’t that person anymore. Louis stayed clear of alcohol altogether – it’s something Harry had picked up on much earlier, but hadn’t asked about it – and that alone proves that the man is committed to his decision. If anything, the revelation made Harry respect the man Louis is now even more.

The cheating part he still took out of the box he’d stuffed it in, every now and then, to inspect it more clearly. He knows Louis wouldn’t do it again, knows he was inebriated when it happened in the first place, but it is a part of the man Louis is now, too. It has clearly left an impact on the man and it makes something in Harry worry a little. He wants to be a good friend to the older and wants to be able to support him, but that means he has to sort out his mixed feelings about the man’s past. Means Harry has to figure out _why_ does he have those mixed feelings in the first place. Which is exactly what brings him here, at his mother’s house, sitting around the island while the woman fixes them some light snack, going on about Robin and Gemma.

”It’s really great Gem will be home for Christmas,” Anne sighs happily, ”You’ll be over, too, right?”

”Of course,” Harry nods as Anne sits in front of him, placing a plate of fruit in front of the man.

”So, what brings you to Holmes Chapel in the middle of the week?” His mother inquiries, her brows raised.

Harry takes a piece of kiwi and throws it into his mouth, trying to think of the right words to start this. He’s talked about Louis a bit before, but probably much too little for Anne to know how big part of Harry’s life the older has become in such a short time. ”You remember my new friend, Louis?”

Anne takes a moment, chewing on her piece of banana. ”Yeah, of course. He’s that little one, with the beard.”

The younger snorts. ”Yeah, that one,” he nods. ”I went to Manchester with him at the end of October, did I mention that?”

”No,” her mother shakes her head slowly, pausing her eating, now more attentive, ”Is he a new boyfriend? He’s quite a bit older than you, isn’t he?”

Harry rolls his eyes. ”Not that it matters, the age thing, but no, we’re not together. He’s married.”

"Right,” Anne nods, folding her hands on top of the table. ”What is it then?”

”We’re really close, yes?” Anne nods, ”And he’s very important to me. But when we were there, we talked about tough things in our past. I told him about Nick, too.”

”Oh, honey. Did he not take it well?” the woman’s brows crease with worry.

”He took it wonderfully, mum,” Harry smiles, the warm feeling that he’d felt then, too, blooming in his chest, ”He’s a really great man. A loving father. And his best friend seems to adore him.”

Anne leans a bit forward in her seat, fixing Harry with a certain stare.

The man sighs. ”I’m telling you this in confidence. So don’t go blabbing to Gem or even Robin. I’m serious,” Harry locks his gaze with his mother’s, who nods, her expression serious.

”He used to be an alcoholic. And that’s not an issue, he’s sober, been for nearly 10 years now. But at the time, when he was at his worst, he, uh,” Harry has to lick his dry lips and blink his eyes a little, ”He cheated on his wife once. While drunk.”

A moment of silence follows where Harry can’t read the woman’s expression for the better or the worse. He knows his mother well enough to understand that she’s processing the information, but it makes him nervous nevertheless. He doesn’t even know what he wants to hear. ”His wife knows this?”

”Yeah,” Harry nods, ”His closest friends as well. Seems like they’re over it, all of them.”

Anne rises her hands towards Harry, her palms up. ”There you go then. Nothing for you to worry about. If the closest people in his life have made peace with it, if _he_ has made peace with it, then it’s in the past. Unless it really bothers you?”

Harry frowns, his brows knitting together. ”It doesn’t. But I’m worried, somehow. And I’m not sure if Louis has quite forgiven himself.”

He looks at Anne then and sees the exact moment realisation dawns on her. She leans back in her chair, her eyes softening. ”You’re afraid you’ll fall for him, love.”

”I’m not,” Harry insists, his brows furrowing deeper as he refuses to let that thought even enter his mind.

”I know you, Harry,” Anne shakes her head and she seems apologetic, ”You’re worried, hun.”

The man pushes his hair out of his eyes, trying to comprehend what his mother is saying. The words don’t make much sense in his mind, even though somewhere deep inside him there’s a little voice, unimpressed, telling him she’s right. She’s always right. ”Yeah, I’m worried, _of course_ I am. He’s one of my closest friends, but –,” Harry shakes his head.

_But what_? It’s not a thought that far-fetched. Louis is stunning, his body curves in all of the right places and his tattoos make his fair skin look perfect in the right lighting. Harry’s attracted to Louis, but that’s not a secret. _Anyone_ in their right mind would be attracted to Louis. But yes, the man is also kind and caring, funny and witty, all traits Harry loves and adores about the man. He doesn’t think he’s in love with Louis, he _can’t_ be, but maybe, if he squints hard enough, there’s a flicker of feelings inside him. And _oh God_.

He cradles his face with his hands. ”Oh _fuck._ ”

Anne gives him another sympathetic look, patiently waiting for the man to find the words. She doesn’t even chastise the younger for cursing, that’s how shaken she thinks he is. Harry has to give himself several minutes before he’s able to pull himself out of all those horrible scenarios this could lead to. ”Okay. It’s okay. I’ve acknowledged the feelings now, right? So, it’s fine. I’m not _going to_ act on them, so it’s no big deal.”

He’s cringing even before his mother manages to open her mouth. ”Darling, I love you very much, but right now I need you to be honest with yourself, hmm?” There’s a worried crease on her forehead now.

Harry hides his face in his hands, groaning loudly. This isn’t happening. This _isn’t_ happening, not to him. He’s been so careful, too. With every new people he meets, he’s been respectfully distant, avoided forming any meaningful bonds, because he _doesn’t need a relationship_. He’s not needed one in five years. ”This isn’t good, is it,” he mumbles through his fingers.

He can’t see Anne, but he can hear it in her voice, the way she’s worrying her lip. ”H. I’m really glad if you’re finally ready to start dating again, truly. But you got to choose someone else. This won’t end well.”

Harry drags his hands down his face, sighing. He feels like he’s not inside his body anymore, but rather floating above them, watching down on himself, feeling pitiful. ”I _know_ it won’t. But mum, he’s not just anyone. You haven’t met him. He’s– he’s exceptional. He’s the most charismatic little shit I’ve ever met, and he’s _kind_. And witty, like really funny-witty.”

Anne purses her lips. ”I know he might look like a dream, but Harry –.”

The younger cuts her off. ”No, but that’s the thing,” he shakes his head, desperate, ”He isn’t perfect. He’s faulty, he’s gone through life-altering things, mum. He’s a little broken, like me.”

As soon as the words are out, Harry realises there’s no going back. He can’t make her mother’s pitying eyes go away anymore, he knows she thinks he’s too gone already. And he doesn’t want to think about that, doesn’t want to lose Louis. Most of all, he can’t let his insecurities make their way into his mind again, he can’t.

”Harry,” Anne says softly, ”He’s married.”

Harry knows that, so he nods. His eyes are closed as if that would shield him from the bad things in the world. ”Under normal circumstances I’d tell you to leave him behind, right now, this second,” Anne’s voice is unsure and her tone makes Harry open his eyes again, ”But he seems like a person who you could use in your life. He’s got the experience, he’s done good to you. You’ve seemed more cheerful than I remember seeing you in years. Now, I don’t know him,” she presses every single word, carefully, ”But maybe you should try to look past all this?”

The man bites down on his lower lip, pinching it with his thumb and forefinger. ”So, I shouldn’t do anything? Just push the feelings away?”

Anne shrugs, a helpless look on her face. ”You’re between a rock and a hard place, love. If you think you can’t handle the feelings, then you better let him go. Otherwise,” she smiles a little, hopeful, ”They might be fleeting, y’know?”

Harry feels like sometimes his mother can be a bit naive. And he’s inherited that from her. The spark inside him is still very small, barely there even, like a smoldering fire. Most days Harry won’t probably even notice it and eventually, it could be gone, just like Anne said. And Harry really doesn’t want to lose his best friend, he can’t afford that.

”They probably are,” the younger nods as he meets Anne’s gaze, ”I’ll just get myself a date for this weekend.”

And Harry goes home with a nice man called Stefan that weekend and he doesn’t touch his phone when he’s with the man. It’s nice and Harry’s able to forget about it, about that thing he now refuses to mention, and so he has sex with Stefan three times and it’s all good again. The feelings were fleeting, he’s 90 per cent sure.

 

**\- November 20th, Saturday**

”Are you absolutely sure you want to go?”

Louis has asked that specific question from Harry about ten times tonight, beginning the moment he had picked Harry up from his friend’s, Ed’s, place. At first it probably just amused Harry but Louis is fairly sure the man is only annoyed by it now.

”Yes. Why are you so nervous? Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?” Harry raises his eyebrows pointedly at Louis.

The older man turns his gaze away and takes a deep breath. ”Of course I’m not. That place is just full of my people. Employees from my company, my friends and family, too. Makes me feel jittery.”

”You’re acting like you’re about to introduce your new boyfriend to your parents. As a teenager, Louis,” Harry laughs, nudging the older in the ribs with his elbow gently, ”Stop being a worrywart, will you? I promise I’ll be at my best behaviour.”

”I’m sorry I’m being like this. Must feel awful. I don’t even know myself what’s wrong with me, honestly. Bloody ridiculous,” Louis chuckles, gulping and willing the butterflies in his stomach to settle down.

What’s really ridiculous is that Harry’s right. Louis is acting like a teenager and it’s fucking embarrassing for both of them. He’s been nervous for hours and hours and he can’t understand why that is. This time it isn’t the good kind, either.

”Okay, soldier,” Harry lets out an exaggerated sigh, his eyes still twinkling with amusement as he plants his hands on Louis’ shoulders and locks their gazes.

”It’s okay to be nervous. When’s the last time you’ve made a new friend? A friend as young as me? When’s the last time you’ve made a friend outside work and had to introduce them to your other friends? Be nervous, it’s okay,” Harry’s voice is calm, collected and low as always.

The curly haired man’s eyes are confident, his grip strong on Louis and once again Louis finds himself feeling young, just as young as Harry is. He feels oddly empowered - and better, he feels better.

”Okay. Yes,” Louis takes another breath, ”Let’s go in then.”

_[Bobby Helms - Jingle Bell Rock](https://open.spotify.com/track/16XzknQWuQEEPhBLP8BgTj) _

The party is one of those that you would see in any romantic Christmas film, decorations hanging off the walls and gingerbread smelling in the air. One of Liam’s jolly Christmas song playlists is playing in the background, people are mingling with each other and there’s a table full of different sorts of drinks that Niall’s probably come up with. Louis wouldn’t recognize the place to be the same tastefully artsy flat he visits ever so often if he didn’t know for a fact it is.

”Would you like a ’Dirty Santa’ or perhaps a ’Sex in the North Pole’?” Harry asks with laughter in his voice.

”Either is fine, just make sure it’s non-alcoholic.”

Louis’ younger friend seems gleeful while reading the names on the tags and it makes Louis feel more at ease. If Harry is able to relax, he should be too, for sure.

”Hey, you made it,” Liam, with a mile smile approaches them, a grumpy looking Zayn in tow and Louis immediately hates them.

They still look like a picture perfect couple. Not for everyone, maybe, but for Louis, yes. Both men are wearing some ugly, knitted sweaters that Louis assumes Liam’s mother has made for them. Liam’s hair has never been as high as it is tonight and Zayn looks absolutely astonishing with a martini in his left hand, which is obviously nothing new. Somehow they make Louis feel under-dressed and they’re wearing bloody Christmas jumpers.

”Of course,” Louis smiles at his mates, but it’s a bit forced.

Zayn picks up on Louis’ mood immediately, giving him a suspicious look from behind the martini. Liam seems more oblivious to this as he’s more interested in Harry at the moment, which is probably a blessing for Louis, seeing as the brown-eyed man would probably worry the living shit out of the situation, had he any skills for reading the mood.

”Harry, mate. Glad you came.”

”Wouldn’t have missed it.”

They shake hands and Harry has his most charming smile on. His white teeth are at display as well as his dimples. Louis tries to avoid feeling like the man is his trophy-wife of the night. He’s certainly not.

”This is Zayn,” Liam pulls his boyfriend forward, forcing Zayn to focus on Harry, too.

”Pleasure, mate,” he nods as he takes the younger’s hand with a subtle smile on his lips.

”I’ve heard so much about you,” Harry beams and Louis can tell it’s genuine excitement. ”You’re the hot artist boyfriend.” Harry’s clearly inspecting Zayn’s tattoo work with keen interest, his eyes are shining like a child’s at Christmas morning.

The raven haired man snorts, turning to look at the furiously blushing man on his side. ”Right,” he drawls, his laughing eyes still on Liam and his arm circling around the tallerman’s waist, ”Wish I could say I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” Zayn’s eyes land on Louis now, followed by two more pairs of eyes, both Liam’s and Harry’s.

Louis rolls his eyes at Zayn and pretends to kick at his shin. He can hear the playfulness in Zayn’s voice though and it makes him feel a bit better about this whole night. Zayn’s always been a tough person to please and although Louis can’t really draw any conclusions based on this short moment, at least Zayn hasn’t completely rejected his new friend. ”Sorry I don’t give you a memo on my social calendar every fucking day,” the oldest says, unimpressed.

Zayn’s dark brown eyes are full of mirth as he sips on his drink, ”Louis has obviously tried to keep you all to himself. It’s no wonder. You’re bloody gorgeous. He just doesn’t want to share you,” he mumbles, a bigger smile settling on his lips this time.

The words make Harry grin smugly and give Louis one of those looks that makes the older feel a bit hot under the collar, which he will never admit out loud. Not to Harry and definitely not to his other friends. He’d never hear the end of it.

”Yes, because his perfect row of white teeth and his luscious curls are the reason I hang out with Harry,” Louis rolls his eyes yet again and somehow he has a feeling he’ll be doing a lot of that tonight.

”No? What else could there be?” Zayn raises his brows and the oldest can already hear the jokes about their age difference forming on the other’s tongue, ”Can’t say you two share much, can ya? Seeing as Harry here probably just graduated from uni and you did that, like, what? 84 years ago?”

Zayn looks positively smug even though the joke is absolutely poor and unoriginal. Louis still wants to leave the room to actually enjoy the party, but he can’t, because Harry seems to be genuinely enjoying _this_. He’s laughing and starts joking with Zayn about the years between their age. Louis isn’t surprised really, somehow used to Harry working his charm on anyone and anything that has a heart beat, but Liam seems a little baffled, following the banter with his eyes a bit widened. It looks comical. Louis figures Liam’s just as surprised about Zayn’s behaviour as he is, as the man usually tends to stick to as little words as possible. Louis makes a mental note to ask Zayn about that later, even though he’ll most likely avoid talking about the evening afterwards altogether.

”Isn’t Niall here?” Louis interrupts one of Harry’s laughs, trying to spot the Irish lad somewhere, but not being able to do so.

”He said he’s running late. El, too?” Liam raises his brows.

”Yeah. She’s visiting her parents in Brighton. They bought that timeshare, think she’s checking it out. She’ll stop by at our house before she’ll head here,” Louis explains, waving his hand aimlessly.

It feels weird to even think about seeing Eleanor in the same room with Harry. It makes Louis feel queasy again, but he refuses to fret about something that he has no power over.

”Well, I think we need to go say hi to Sam and Gary, so enjoy the party and hope to run in to you later,” Liam gives them one of his ’ _melt-all-the-grandmother’s_ ’ smiles, as Harry calls them, and drags a whining Zayn away with him.

There’s a moment of silence where Louis just looks at Harry with pure fear in his eyes and Harry just stands there, his emeralds emotionless.

”What the hell were you so nervous about? They’re great!” The younger spreads his arms, a happy, open-mouthed grin appearing.

Louis lets out a breath he didn’t know he was actually holding, his head drops back as he laughs out loud.

”Even Zayn? He can come across as rude sometimes.”

”Are you kidding? He was a delight. And I can _definitely_ understand what Liam seems in him,” Harry smirks, eyeing after the raven haired man that Liam had managed to snatch up a little over six years ago.

”Getting jealous over here, mate,” Louis jokes, nudging Harry with his hips and earning a heartfelt laugh from his friend.

Then he leans closer to Louis, placing his right hand in the small of the smaller’s back, causing a shock to run through his body. In his peripheral vision Louis can see Harry’s grinning as he leans even closer to whisper into his ear.

”Don’t worry, Mister Tomlinson. You are absolutely the most attractive man in this room.”

Another shiver travels up Louis’ spine as he lets out a small laugh that lacks the humour it should definitely contain in a moment like this. Thankfully, Harry doesn’t seem to notice as he takes the smallest step back, and nods towards the door.

”Is she looking for you?”

Louis turns to look and sees his wife standing at the entrance, her brown eyes scanning the room, presumably trying to find Louis in the crowd. For a second or so Louis wishes she wouldn’t, but the thought is gone as soon as Eleanor’s eyes land on him and Harry, her lips pulling up to a tight smile with a small delay.

”Yeah, that’s my wife,” Louis mutters as the woman starts making her way towards them.

Louis can feel Harry tensing up a little next to him and only then he notices his friend still hasn’t let go of him. He doesn’t have the chance to say anything before Eleanor’s already there, staring at the said hand, rather intently.

”Hi, El,” Louis greets as Harry quickly pulls the hand away from his back and offers it to Eleanor.

”Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

Louis’ wife is polite, never should anyone expect anything else. She takes the hand and gives Harry one of the smiles she used to jokingly practice in front of their bedroom mirror, right before Louis became the CEO of his father’s company. She used to say she wants to be able to give a good image to the public even if she wasn’t having a good day, for Louis’ sake.

”May I ask how you know my husband? You don’t quite strike me as a business partner,” Eleanor adds another smile.

”Oh, yeah, I’m not a businessman. We met on a plane some time ago. Got on really well and became friends,” Harry says, his smile, too, a lot more subtle than usually.

Louis wants to say something too, to maybe ease the tension that can so clearly be felt between them, but he doesn’t know what. What should he say? He doesn’t want to start up a fight with Eleanor by saying the wrong thing and he honestly can’t think of anything to break the ice. There’s some things he’d usually say about Harry, when talking about the man, but it feels wrong to disclose those thoughts to Eleanor.

”Doesn’t sound at all like Louis, I must say.”

Harry laughs at Eleanor’s words and it’s genuine, even though Eleanor is treating Harry like one of those people she’s forced to meet with when Louis takes her to a dinner party that’s filled with colleagues, dry business people that Louis hates meeting just as much. But Harry’s pleasant and Harry’s Louis’ friend. Only now does Louis realise that Eleanor’s always been this way with his other mates too, and it quite bothers him.

”Well, I’m capable of change, aren’t I?” he offers a tight smile to Eleanor before nodding towards one of the groups of people, ”Nora and Jocelyn probably want to see you.”

”Don’t you think they’d want to chat with you too, honey?” Eleanor’s eyes are challenging as she catches Louis’ eye.

”Maybe, but I can’t really leave Harry alone. He doesn’t know anyone here, so,” Louis shrugs nonchalantly.

Harry gives him a warning look, for a reason. Eleanor isn’t pleased, Louis knows this. All these years spent together, but really apart, he’s learned to pick up on the telltale signs of his wife’s annoyance; the ticking eyebrow, the corners of her mouth pulling downwards and the deep crease appearing on her forehead. Louis decides it’s nothing that can’t wait a few hours, though, and turns around to pour Eleanor a drink and hands it to her.

”I think we’ll try and find Niall. He should be here by now.”

With a smile Louis guides Harry away from his wife and even though he can feel Harry gaping at him, he still thinks he’s done the right thing. Eleanor’s gaze is burning in his back, but less damage will be done if Louis does this, he’s sure of it. Mostly.

”She’s going to kill you,” Harry hisses as they try to push through a few groups with mumbled apologies.

”She won’t,” Louis assures as they finally get to the kitchen and are able to sit down around the table filled with snacks, ”She was being rude to you.”

Harry frowns as he picks up a crisp.

”I don’t think so.”

”You don’t know her.”

”What does it matter if I didn’t even notice?” Harry asks, chuckling now.

”I just didn’t like it, ’s all,” Louis shrugs as he steals the crisp from Harry and throws it into his mouth.

”Tommo!”

A familiar voice interrupts Harry’s forthcoming lecture about stealing other people’s food. Niall is just pushing his way through some people and waving at them. He’s got a beer in his hand and reindeer’s horns on top of his head.

”Hey, mate,” Louis gets up to hug his friend and introduces Harry right after.

”Oh, so _you_ are the man he’s been sneaking out to talk to when we’re having our game nights,” Niall grins gleefully, ”Not blaming him though. I mean, look at you. You’ve got to have it all.”

”You haven’t even talked to him properly yet,” Louis points out, his tone bored as always with Niall’s remarks on these things.

He’s got Harry laughing though, and that’s always good.

”But I can tell. Can’t you?”

”We met on plane and he basically harassed me in to talking to him,” Louis explains, his voice innocent.

”Hey. Not true at all. You were the one peeping at other people, mister,” Harry scolds, but his eyes are twinkling under the kitchen lamp.

”How long have you known each other for, exactly?” Niall asks, his tone curious and mouth full of crisps already.

Louis turns to look at Harry, because he can’t really remember. It feels like it’s been years but of course it hasn’t. Harry seems to be pondering too, his chin rested on his hand propped on the table.

”Some months. Three, maybe?” Louis tries, only to be corrected by Harry.

”Think it’s four already.”

”Yeah, I guess it is,” the older muses, briefly thinking back to the time he first met the curly haired bloke, a smile forming on to his lips.

”Right,” Niall looks between them and throws another crisp into his mouth, ”Well. It is absolutely a pleasure to meet you Harry, if not only because I thought Louis had no other friends besides us and by us I mean me and the couple who’s throwing this party and we are just a sad, sad achievement for someone like Louis, even if I say so myself.”

”I don’t think so at all,” Harry laughs and tells Niall that he actually quite likes all of Louis’ friends he’s met so far.

”Man, you must have horrible taste then,” Niall jokes and pats Louis on the shoulder, ”No, just kidding. Where are you from Harry?”

With that Niall kicks off a proper conversation with Harry and Louis is more than content to just watch and listen. Initially, Louis had been the least worried about Harry meeting Niall, only because people are rarely able to resist the Irish man’s charm. He’s funny and considerate of others, always finds a thing or two to talk about. Him and Louis had met at a coffee shop that Niall works night-shifts at, and the man had managed to convince Louis to accompany him to a football match. They’re both devoted fans of Manchester United and, well, the rest is history.

”Why move to London if you loved it back home so much?” Harry inquires.

Niall shrugs, tilting his head from left to right and then back again a few times. ”I thought it’d be easier to get a job ’round here. Wasn’t wrong, by the way.”

Harry nods and picks up a biscuit of some sort. He examines it for a second and throws it into his mouth as a full piece. Louis thinks he’s already picking up bad habits from Niall. ”I can understand that. Not sure why I didn’t locate here, to be honest.”

”London’s a great city. All the people and shit. Love it here,” Niall praises, his hand on his heart and Harry laughs.

”For you, I bet,” Louis intervenes, ”You work as a barista. Meet tons of people every day.”

Niall admits that his job might give a bit more urban picture of the city than Louis’, but also reminds Louis that it’s only a choice in the end. ”Yeah, like I had much of a choice,” Louis snorts.

”You didn’t?” Harry raises his brows, clearly interested.

Unluckily for Harry, Louis doesn’t really feel like going over that topic today, at a Christmas party that had stressed him out enough already. He knows Harry must have some kind of a picture about his history in the company from their Manchester trip, but there’s still a few things he’d left unsaid. ”Kind of. It’s a thing for another time.”

Harry doesn’t pressure him, of course he doesn’t, only nods and smiles.

”You haven’t made a single joke about mine and Harry’s age difference,” Louis then points out to Niall, who’s tapping something on his phone, but puts the device away a moment after.

”Why would I?” Niall scoffs, ”I act like a bloody 20-year-old meself. You lot still hang out with me, don’t you?”

Louis laughs at that, as well as Harry, and admits that Niall’s right. Out of all of them, Niall must be the most youthful, sometimes even a bit childish. It has never once bothered any of them, though, as far as Louis knows.

”What’s this here? Niall telling you lies ’bout us?”

A relatively drunken Liam flops down onto Harry’s lap and by now Louis is sure the younger must be questioning Louis’ ability to choose mature friends. ”Thought this was supposed to be ’a civilized gathering of friends’.”

Both Harry and Niall laugh at that, but Liam seems a lot more dissatisfied. He lifts his pointer finger and opens his mouth to protest, but his brain-to-mouth coordination isn’t working all that well. ”Don’t run your mouth, _Louis_. Everyone’s being very civilized. Civil. You know.”

Louis lifts his brows in amusement and gives the others a look that goes completely unnoticed by Liam - thankfully - as Zayn makes his way to them. ”Zaynie! Munchkin!”

”Ugh. Get him away from me.”

Harry clicks his fingers and ’ _ha_ ’s, his face brightening up like he’s come up with a solution to the biggest problem there ever was in the whole wide world. ”Think I’ve found the key to a long and happy relationship: just act like a dick, should work everything right out.”

”Nope, that’s not it. Has definitely not worked for my marriage,” Louis jokes, making the others laugh, even Liam this time.

”Why, Liam, are you sitting on Harry’s lap again?” Zayn asks with a bored tone, pulling his boyfriend away from Harry, only to have the brown-eyed man clinging to him.

”Bet he’s had too many Dirty Santas,” Niall basically cackles from next to Louis, ”They’re the strongest ones.”

”What’s in ’em?” Harry laughs, going for Liam’s glass, but magically the other manages to avoid Harry’s grabby hands.

Niall shrugs with mischief in his eyes. ”Mainly vodka.”

”Seems like there’ll be a few more drunken people at this party,” Louis reaches to pat Zayn’s shoulder, but the man just pulls away, huffing annoyed.

”Well, seeing as this is your fault, Niall, help me get him to bed. Gonna be bloody embarrassing to say goodbye to the guests without him,” Zayn grumbles and beckons for Niall to help him.

Louis smirks at him, but sympathetically consoles him, reminding that Liam will probably feel even worse the next morning, which evidently makes Zayn smile to himself. As the group of three disappears from view, Louis can’t really help shaking his head looking after them.

”They’re quite something,” Harry points out, offering Louis a cupcake that he’d apparently stolen from a counter top behind him.

”You’re telling me,” Louis lets out a small laugh, ”Surprised I’m so normal.”

Harry shakes his head, clearly amused. Amused by Louis or the lads, the older is not completely sure. ”How’d you guys end up together, again?”

”I met Niall, maybe six years ago, I think, at a coffee shop around the same time Liam and Zayn started going out. I had to find something to do on me free-time, seeing as Liam was pretty much occupied with Zayn. Niall and I quickly became friends and eventually, after Liam and Zayn’s honeymoon phase was over, we started gathering at the pub and then when mine and Liam’s schedules became crazy, at Liam’s. Later Liam moved in with Zayn and, well, here we are,” Louis explains, gesturing around them.

Harry seems to be thinking about something and apparently Louis’ face shows that he wants to ask about it as the man goes on to note that they’re all so different, like a small family with all these distinct characters. This makes Louis smile, fondly probably, as he thanks for the compliment.

”I wish I’d find a friend group like that,” Harry sighs, only serving to make Louis laugh. ”What’re you laughing at?”

”You’re twenty-three Harold, you’ve got plenty of time to meet people like that.”

For that Louis earns an eye-roll and some muttering about him ’ _not understanding anything_ ’. ”You sound like my teenage daughter right now. Legitimately, Harry.”

”Well I’m basically a teen, so,” he shrugs with a more than familiar twinkle in his eyes. ”No, but you’re right. You only met them when you were like, twenty-eight or something. So, yeah.”

For some reason Louis feels like this is maybe one of those conversations Harry doesn’t want to have tonight. Louis for one knows he doesn’t want to get into his job or choice of studies, so he doesn’t push the topic, but makes sure to remember to ask about it later.

He’s just about to continue their conversation when one of his employees approaches him, and by his nervous ticks Louis can tell he’s been gathering up the courage to do so all night. He doesn’t have the heart to turn him away, so he let’s the guy strike up a conversation with him, even though Harry points towards the living room and gets up. It makes Louis nervous to let the man go on his own, but he couldn’t ask him to stay either. Now he just begs that the younger won’t run into any unpleasant people.

–

Later in the night Louis finds himself wandering out to the balcony, just to steal a moment for himself. He lights up a cigarette and sits on one of the comfy lounge chairs Liam had insisted the balcony needed to have to be complete. Personally, Louis doesn’t think a balcony needs more than an ash tray. It's already dark and the time must be far past one a.m. The breeze isn't actually that cold and it soothes Louis' nearly-numb nerves, even though the night has gone a lot better than he initially was afraid it would. Eleanor had only stolen Louis away a few times to greet some of their mutual friends and she hadn't even given him the cold shoulder either.

Harry had been chatting with Louis' friends and they seemed to get along well, even when Louis wasn't around. Louis' not sure what he thought, it's Harry after all. The same man who'd been able to charm his way into Louis' life in five or so hours.

"Hey. Was looking for you," the said man steps on to the balcony, then, shutting the familiar creaking door behind him.

_[One Direction - What a Feeling](https://open.spotify.com/track/0iSWAT0EL8TwmzcgBjKMh6) _

Louis smiles at him and waves the cigarette in his hand. "Needed one."

"It's been that bad then?" Harry laughs and joins Louis, taking the chair next to him.

Louis shrugs and takes another drag out of the Marlboro. "Not really. Seemed like you got on with the guys pretty well, actually."

"Yeah," Harry nods, blowing some air out of his mouth to get the smoke away from him.

"Want me to move?" Louis offers, already getting up and moving to lean on the railing.

The other follows right after him, though, shaking his head with a small smile playing on his lips. "I like your friends, they're all really nice. I got to see a whole another side to you."

"Likewise."

Louis takes yet another drag and tries to blow the smoke the other way, but the wind brings it right back towards them. "Sorry."

"No. I think I have to get used to it if I want to hang out with you," Harry chuckles.

"You’ve got a point there, curly," the older side-eyes him, with a half apologetic, half amused smile.

A comfortable silence falls upon them, one that makes Louis' mind go silent. Harry’s humming a song the older doesn't recognize, yet he thinks he's heard it before, a long time ago.

"You're a very charming man, you know that right?" the taller suddenly wonders, making Louis lift his gaze to look at him.

"I guess?"

"No, I mean," Harry smiles, turning to completely face Louis, leaning his side to the cold metal railing, "I can definitely understand how you've got friends like that. They're all very different but you gather the weirdest bunch around you. I’m here, aren’t I."

Louis doesn't really know what to say. He hadn't expected Harry to analyse him this way, not that it's a bad thing. He smiles abashed and turns away, muttering something about being a businessman.

Harry rolls his eyes and nudges Louis’ side. "It's not like you gained them by being all professional. They're genuinely loyal to you, because they want to. I admire that."

"Thanks, Harry."

Louis is definitely embarrassed, Harry can probably tell too, but it doesn't really bother he as much as he'd thought it would. But then again, nothing's really as it usually is when it comes to Harry, Louis has learned as much.

"No problem," the younger pats Louis' shoulder, his palm big and oddly fitting on Louis.

Harry turns back to look at the city below them, stepping another inch or two closer to Louis and his cigarette. He starts humming again, another song Louis could swear he's heard, but can't remember any lyrics to. It's nice. It's normal.

They're standing like that, side to side, Louis smoking and Harry silently singing some mumbled words, when Zayn joins them.

"Ah, the peace," the man mutters, lighting up is own cigarette. ”Can’t stand those fucking Christmas tunes.”

Louis throws away his cigarette butt to the dangerously full ash tray, giving Zayn an acknowledging laugh. They go silent afterwards, and it’s quiet for a moment longer, all of the three clearly wrapped up in their own thoughts. Louis’ mind is on Harry, but that’s nothing new. Everything these days seems to come back to the amiable man, who’d been a stranger to him only four months back. It’s a little scary how much he feels like he needs to know about the younger, for having known him for such a short time.

He knows Harry's a lot more intuitive than most people would assume, and Louis is fairly sure he must be wondering why Louis had suddenly invited him to a party full of his own friends. Up until now it had been an unspoken rule that they have this friendship that's not connected to anything else in their life. It had been a shared secret up until now, something they’d both been cherishing in a quiet manner, by themselves. For Louis it had been ideal, Harry providing the perfect escape from his own life, but altogether he thinks it’s worked for both of them. He wants to know how Harry feels about this shift.

"Can I be honest with you?" Zayn speaks up, then. He's not facing either of them, but instead keeps his eyes trained on something down below them.

Louis’ brows furrow with silent worry, well aware of his friend’s tendency to stir up conversations that people could do without. "Go ahead," Harry nods, before the older can pipe in, however.

"There’s an odd chemistry between the two of you,” the raven haired man glances their way, his eyes twinkling, ”I’m not sure if you’re even aware of it, to be honest. I thought you'd known each other for much longer than four months," Zayn blows out smoke one last time and throws the butt into the jar on the ground.

"What’d you mean?" Louis wonders out loud, even if he really doesn't care that much in the end. He knows they're unnaturally close. He also knows Zayn tends to be a bit overly dramatic, as in hungry for grand stories at times, even though people would never guess as much. The man’s mysterious exterior often fools strangers, it had fooled Louis, too.

"I don't know. You move in sync, kind of," Zayn shrugs, finally turning to look at them fully.

Neither Louis or Harry know what to say as Zayn tilts his head the tiniest bit, like he's observing them. Which he probably is, Louis thinks, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He wants to tell Zayn to leave it be, just because right now it feels like a sensitive topic, for God knows what reason. Harry and him, they've never really approached the topic, even though it feels weird at times. Sometimes when they're facetiming each other and Harry is telling him about some student in his class or about how he needs to go to a doctor to get his knee checked, Louis finds himself thinking about the nature of their friendship and each time it kind of sneaks up on him, how close they actually are. There's not a thing Louis couldn't tell Harry about.

"Is it a bad thing?" He finds himself asking.

"No, I don't think so. Just rarely meet people like that, 's all," Zayn smiles, his voice low and slower than usual.

If Louis didn’t know better, he’d say Zayn thinks he knows something, but since there’s nothing to know, Louis pins it on the time and all the Christmas-y things in his blood. He doesn’t flip his friend off, though, like he usually probably would. For tonight, he thinks, it’s okay to enjoy the idea of there maybe being some secrets between him and Harry, even if there’s not. Not anymore, now that their friendship’s out there.

”Right,” Zayn yawns after a while, ”Think I’ll head inside to meet up with some mates before this party is over. El left, by the way.”

”She did? Okay. Thanks for letting me know,” Louis nods in his friend’s direction, as Zayn shakes Harry’s hand once more, and leaves the balcony.

”I’ll take you home?” Louis suggests when Harry turns to look at him again.

”Sure,” the other nods, ”But let’s stay here for a bit longer.”

Louis doesn’t argue.

 –

”Who is this Ed guy, by the way?” Louis asks as he parks the car, peering outside from the windscreen at the rather ragged block of flats in front of him.

”A friend I met at Glasgow some years back. He was the supporting act for some band and I had a feeling he’d make it big one day so I tracked him down and asked for an autograph,” Harry explains with a fond smile as he pulls his jacket on, with much difficulty, the space limited.

Louis laughs as the man accidentally hits him with his long arm, struggling with the piece of clothing. Again, Louis gets the sense of familiarity and easiness. It leaves a funny feeling in his stomach, like he’d eaten a bunch of those twirling leaves that the wind carries through the streets, and now they’re continuing their journey inside of him.

”Is that building safe though? Feels like it might collapse any minute now,” he grimaces, swiftly ignoring the tickles under his skin.

Harry huffs out a small laugh and tells Louis he’s not seen anything yet. ”You should come visit me, at my place.”

”Don’t tempt me. I just might.”

Harry turns to look at him and keeps fiddling with his fingers. His eyes are shining even in the dark. ”Not as long as I live in Liverpool, right?”

”Maybe I like you enough to go back,” Louis admits, his voice sounding suddenly loud in the quiet car, in the closed space. ”Anyways. Should I escort you to the door?”

”As if I’d ever let you,” Harry snorts, pushing the door finally open and getting out.

”He’d tease you? Ed?” Louis gets out of the car as well, not ready to say goodbye quite yet.

”Relentlessly.”

They stand there, at the opposite sides of the car, looking at each other over the roof, both smiling a little. The night has felt long, to Louis at least, but right now he wishes it wouldn’t end at all. He has no idea when he’ll see Harry again, he barely has any days off for two months as of now. Not to mention Harry’s schedule must be crazy as the end of the term is nearing. Louis doesn’t dare to ask about it either, for some reason.

”A hug?” Harry suggests, his tone almost wistful.

Louis nods and pushes the door closed as Harry does the same on his side. If Louis wasn’t feeling as emotional as he is, he’d crack a joke about how they meet halfway, right in front of the car, like in one of those romantic comedies the taller loves. He doesn’t, though, and even if Harry might be thinking something along those lines too, he doesn’t either.

In moments like these Louis feels surprisingly shy. He’d felt like this the time he’d said goodbye to Harry under that street lamp in Liverpool and he’d felt the same way back in Manchester too, when he’d dropped the man off at the bus station. Maybe shyness isn’t the right term. It’s more like butterflies and something much, much heavier and more evil are fighting in his belly. It’s the worst, so to say.

Louis opens his arms and Harry falls into them easily, like he’d been waiting to do this all night. It should scare Louis, but it doesn’t, because he’s not much better. What amazes him is that Harry smells exactly the same he always does: like fresh laundry mixed with a light scent of vanilla and some strawberry shampoo. Somewhere there he can smell alcohol as well, but it doesn’t bother the older. Harry’s curls tickle Louis’ cheek and his hands are pressed to Louis’ lower back, and for a moment, as cliche as it sounds, the smaller feels like those hands are the exact thing that keeps him grounded.

”I don’t know what was up with me tonight, sorry ’bout that,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s shoulder.

The man’s coat feels rough against his lips, the fabric prickling as Harry shifts a little.

”What d’you mean?”

”The nerves,” Louis clarifies, ”I’m _not_ like that, usually.”

Louis can feel Harry laugh against the top of his head, his body vibrating softly. He’s rather sure this will be one of those things he’d list as his favourite traits about Harry: the way the man’s whole body reacts when he’s laughing. ”It’s alright. I’m a bit flattered, actually. After all, I’ve managed to make a businessman nervous. Doesn’t happen very often.”

It’s Louis turn to let out a laugh, but it comes out short and strangled. He buries his face deeper into the curly haired man’s chest. Louis knows going home after this will feel like absolutely nothing. He’ll slip under the covers in his bed that doesn’t feel like his at all, only to toss and turn through the night, his mind running around in circles.

Louis’ arms tighten around Harry.

”You’re small,” the younger whispers and Louis tries to hear the teasing in his voice, but he can’t.

”You’re not.”

The night is silent around them, surprisingly so. It makes the moment feel a lot more monumental than it probably is, and slowly Louis starts feeling sillier and sillier. His mind making up excuses to leave, let go, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to, as silly as he might end up feeling by the end of tonight.

Harry shifts inside Louis’ arms and the older knows he needs to move away. It doesn’t come easy, his limbs heavy as lead when he removes his arms. His hand still rests on Harry’s forearm as they stand there, both with their respective small smiles and even smaller coughs.

The wind is picking up and Louis tells himself that’s why he’s feeling so cold inside. Harry sways on his feet a little, glancing towards the building, sorry written all over his face. ”Call me?”

Louis nods, gulping down something bitter and filled with emotions. ”Definitely.”

If Louis stands there, next to his over-the-top car, and watches Harry get inside safely then it’s purely because he’s concerned of his friend. And a little because he doesn’t want to get home yet, not to the house he calls home anyways.

Maybe Louis drives around for some time. Maybe he tries to find the song Harry was humming from Spotify, but he’ll never tell anyone. He just needed a ten.

 

**\- December 17th, Friday**

For once Louis manages to close his office door in time, at 5 p.m. and if that’s not a reason big enough to make him feel good, it’s the phone call he receives just as he pulls the door to his car shut. At first he thinks about ignoring the vibration in his pocket, not feeling up to answering another work call, but then a brief thought about it maybe being Harry makes him check the caller.

”Hi, mum.”

”Hi, darling. Still at work?” Jay’s voice is one of Louis’ favourite voices in the whole wide world, only the sound of it makes him smile.

”Wrapped up early, actually,” Louis explains as he makes his way on to the road, ”What’s up?”

Louis can hear Jay chastise his younger siblings at the other end of the line, probably something about not bickering while eating. ”Nothing, really. Just wanted to call you, hear your voice. Haven’t seen you since Abbie’s birthday.”

”I’m sorry, mum,” Louis feels infinitely bad about not having visited home in such a long time, and he knows Jay knows as much, ”You know, it’s work and stuff.”

”And stuff. Gee, you know how to make your mum feel good,” the woman laughs and Louis knows she’s just joking, but he feels terrible nonetheless.

Call him a mama’s boy if you want, but Louis has always been there for his mother. Jay’s been a single mother more than once in her life and juggled two jobs at the same time, so Louis had of course done all he could to help. He babysat his little sisters and took extra shifts at the toy store he worked at when he was still in university. Later in life he’s helped his mum financially, whenever need be.

”I’m sorry.”

”Stop being silly, baby boy,” Jay simply sighs, ”How are things at work? With friends?”

Louis groans at the mention of his work, earning a chuckle from his mother though it’s not very amused, instead tilting towards tired and worried. ”Work’s hell, as per usual. Friends are good, haven’t been able to really hang out with them properly in a while though.”

”You should. Don’t let the stress get to you. You know what it did to your father,” Jay reminds him, her tone lecturing and painfully familiar from Louis’ teenage years.

”I know mum, I know. How are the kids? Daisy and Phoebs I saw the other day, but the others? How’s Fiz’s university career?”

Jay goes on to tell him all about his siblings’ lives. About Felicite’s new psychology professor who’s got her interested in the subject so keenly, the girl spends all her afternoon’s studying, about Lottie’s new boyfriend Tommy, whom Louis absolutely has to meet, according to her, and about the smaller twins’ horrendous teacher who doesn’t understand that children need to be children before they start working on such a ridiculous amount of homework.

Louis feels even worse about not having gone home for weeks and weeks, like he’s missed so many things again. He needs to call Lottie, ask about this Tommy lad, is it serious. He wants to talk with Fizzy as well, know how she feels about the subject she’s chosen to study. He wants to be there for his siblings, wants them to know that they can always count on him. Desperately he tries to prevent the seething thoughts about not only being a poor father, but also a poor brother from seeping into his exhausted mind.

”I miss them a lot,” Louis sighs as he pulls in their driveway and turns the engine off.

”I know bub,” Jay coos, ”And that’s why I hate that I have something that I need to talk to you about.”

Worry creeps up Louis’ neck, his tie feeling suddenly much more suffocating than before. ”Did you get the results? From the hospital.”

”No, it’s not about that, I’m afraid,” Jay’s voice is serious, but Louis can’t think of anything else his mother would want to talk about like this, ”It’s about your wife.”

Louis lets his eyes fall shut and leans his head back. _Great_. ”What is it?”

”You know I hate to be a tattletale,” - Louis points out that she really doesn’t -, ”But this time she called _me_ and you’re my son. I feel obligated to tell.”

”Please do.”

Jay seems to hesitate a moment, most likely calculating whether this is a matter big enough to burden her son with, but eventually she must deem it important enough, her voice coming through the speaker. ”She thinks you’re not home enough, which isn’t news to me, nor should they be news to her,” the woman retorts, ”But then, she said you’re not investing enough in your marriage. Even implied that you might be cheating on her,” Jay holds a pause, ”With a younger man?”

Louis isn’t sure if it’s meant to come out as a question, but it does. He’s not mad, he’s not even surprised. Just really, really exhausted and frustrated. ”Great. Just grand.”

”I don’t want to ask, Lou.”

”I’m not, mum. Having an affair,” Louis huffs, rubbing at his temple, ”But, she’s right. I’m not investing in, what the hell ever this is. Can’t call it a marriage anymore.”

”Oh, Louis,” she sounds worried and Louis hates it, ”I know, darling. She’s not _it_. Never has been and never will be, I know.”

”I wish that’d be enough,” Louis laughs humorlessly, ”For you or me to know as much. But it’s not, is it?”

Jay doesn’t say anything and it’s enough for Louis to know. ”Who’s this man she’s referring to, then?”

Louis should’ve guessed that bringing Harry to that party would have consequences. He’d been naive to think Eleanor would let it go with no mention whatsoever. ”Harry, probably. A friend of mine from Liverpool.”

”That’s a new name,” Jay points out.

”We’ve only known each other for less than six months, mum,” Louis whines, not proudly, mind you.

Jay scolds him right away. ”That long? Louis! You always tell me everything as soon as it happens. He must not be a very good friend then, I assume, huh?”

”Stop, mum. I know what you’re doing. It’s not working,” Louis shakes his head even though his mum can’t see it. He’s smiling again.

”Oh, blimey fine then. I better get to meet him though, you hear me?”

Louis looks down at his wedding ring that by now is just a useless accessory, before he lets out a soft laugh. ”You will, mum. Promise.”

For a moment it’s quiet, only some kiddie noises coming from the other side of the phone. ”Talk to her about it, Lou. You don’t have to put up with such accusations anymore. He’s gone, yeah? And the past in the past.”

”Yeah, I will,” Louis promises quietly, ”Go spend time with the kids now. Dan’s probably home too by now, yeah? Go to them.”

”Okay, I will. Just. Don’t tire yourself out, love. You mean the world to me, baby boy,” Jay says softly, her voice warming Louis all over.

”You do too, mum. Say hi to Ernie and Dottie. Dais and Phoebs, too. The gang, you know the drill,” Louis fondly laughs in to the phone before they bid their goodbyes.

It’s a mental battle to get out of the car and make his way up to the house and inside. It takes him several minutes before he manages it, and still it’s all but easy. Louis considers calling Harry, making sort of one more pit stop before facing what’s ahead, but decides against it in the end. He doesn’t want to upset the younger, too, with his own gloomy state of mind.

Much to his surprise, the house is empty. Eleanor’s left a post-it note on the fridge, one that says she’s out with her mum and Abbie’s gone to Holly’s place. Relief washes over Louis and his tense shoulders slump. He’s probably bought himself another hour or two just to be with himself, maybe sort out his thoughts about the whole ordeal.

He decides to order in some pizza, it’s Friday after all, and once he’s put his regular order of pepperoni pizza in, Louis lies down on the couch and pulls out his phone. Abbie’s smiling face is looking right at him on the screen, making Louis wonder when was the last time they had a proper conversation. He knows his daughter is at a friend’s house and probably won’t want to talk, but he really just needs to hear her voice.

After the seventh ring, though, Louis gives up, fairly sure Abbie’s not around her phone. The house feels quiet, too quiet, and so Louis contemplates on calling Liam or Zayn, but in the end decides not to. It’s also Liam’s night off, he should be able to spend it with his boyfriend, Louis reckons.

He wants to call Harry, as much is obvious, but he can’t remember if Harry had said he had some major, important plans for this exact evening. Louis scrolls through his Facebook feed, absentmindedly, but as it provides no distraction from the emptiness, he figures he can always text Harry if he’s available.

_Hey you. Busy?_

It doesn’t take Harry more than a minute or maybe two to reply, so Louis automatically figures he must not be too occupied.

**Not busy, perse. I’m actually at Ed’s. Change of plans, so. Did you need something?**

To say Louis is surprised would be an understatement. He feels strange all over, like he’s been a bit cheated on, as nothing about this day signaled that Harry is in town. As if Louis expects his body to somehow react to the fact that this man is nearby, which is just absurd, of course.

_Oh, really? Wanna tell me what happened? And not really, just could use some company._

**It’s nothing serious, but it’s a** **bit of a long story and I’m a** **lil’** **tied up right now. Sorry :(. I can call you later, like in an hour x?**

_Yeah of course. Call me when you can x._

Now Louis just feels all kinds of unlucky. He has absolutely no idea how long Harry will be staying in town, or if he is even thinking about seeing Louis, and he feels like a proper dick for messaging the man, seeing as he’s clearly busy with something rather important, despite initially claiming otherwise. During the past month Louis has learned that all things Ed-related can be considered of importance, and that he should never question that. Ed’s one of the kind of friends who Harry considers to be family and if he’s in need of help, Harry will come to him, no matter what it takes. Louis admires that. It doesn’t help getting rid of the blue feeling, however.

Suddenly, the lights are turned on, and Louis can see Eleanor standing under the arch that leads to their living room. ”You’re home.”

”Managed to leave early today, yeah,” Louis nods, flopping back down, deeming the conversation not important enough to hurt his neck by peering over the back of the couch.

”Want dinner?”

”Already ordered, thanks,” Louis replies, turning to lay on his side.

He can hear Eleanor coming closer, and indeed, soon the woman appears in front of him. She doesn’t seem pleased, for whatever reason, and frankly, Louis is too tired to even ask why. He knows it’s partly because he’s still annoyed about what Jay had told him, but stubbornly, he decides to stay indifferent. He just raises his brows as a question, earning an eye roll in return.

”You could’ve called,” she snaps and walks away, presumably to put away the groceries in her hands.

Louis doesn’t reply, just lets her work in the kitchen, slamming some doors, cursing businessmen and all husbands the earth carries. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. At some point of it all, Abbie turns up, making her way to Louis. ”Didn’t know you were home, kiddo.”

Abbie shakes her head, side-eyeing the kitchen door. ”Just got back. She mad again?”

Louis shrugs. ”You know how she gets. Was it fun at Holly’s?”

”We just did our homework, nothing special, really,” Abbie says, laying down beside Louis, forcing him to press closer to the back of the couch, ”How are you?”

One thing Louis absolutely loves about his daughter is the fact that she never asks about work, ever. She knows Louis gets to talk about that with Eleanor and his friends, she knows he gets to be around all that stuff so much he’s tired of talking about it once he’s home. Instead she opts for asking how Louis is in general or maybe what are his plans for the rest of the day.

”Tired, of course,” Louis grimaces, ”Hungry, too. A little bit frustrated with your mum, if I’m being honest.”

”’Cause she’s ruining your free evening? I can relate,” Abbie sounds sad and Louis wants to get up and go tell Eleanor to stop raging, to stop being so immature about this. The older doesn’t care about his own night, but his daughter rarely gets one with both her parents in the house.

”She’ll calm down soon enough. It’s you I’ve been dying to talk to, anyways,” Louis comforts and asks Abbie where she’d like to go for their extended-weekend trip this year, re-directing the conversation to nicer things.

”I can choose?”

”I think you’re old enough, yeah.”

”Can I think about it?” Abbie asks, pulling away from Louis to get up again. ”I’ll call Phoebs and ask if she has any ideas.”

”Of course,” Louis nods, getting up as well.

Abbie promises to ponder over it and gives Louis a hug before she disappears upstairs, while Louis slips in to the kitchen, as much as he hates to do so. He still wants to make a peace, for Abbie’s sake. ”Are you calmer now?”

Eleanor gives him a look, a hostal one. ”Surprised you found the time to be with your daughter.”

Louis’ movements halt as he’s bringing out a coffee cup from the cupboard. ”Don’t.”

_[Twenty One Pilots - Trapdoor](https://open.spotify.com/track/4IN3imzEuTsiHO6tOwDQu5) _

”Don’t what?” Eleanor’s voice is challenging and by now Louis knows this is going to be a fight. He wishes Abbie would’ve stayed at Holly’s for a bit longer.

”Don’t bring Abbie into something she’s not meant to be a part of,” Louis says with a stern voice, turning to face his wife, who is standing on the opposite side of the kitchen isle.

Her eyes are filled with irritation, a look Louis has learned to recognize even in his sleep years and years back. ”I don’t know what you mean, Louis. I don’t remember when was the last time you took her out,” she holds a pause, her eyes flicking to somewhere behind Louis, ”When you took _us_ out.”

”So this is about that then. About me not ’investing’ in our marriage, is it?”

Louis is fully aware his voice is an octave lower, a bit louder too. He’s just as aware of the fact that it’s too late to back down from this argument, the argument he’d wished they could’ve talked out. Eleanor’s playing it dirty, however, by bringing Abbie into something Louis knows has actually nothing to do with her, not essentially. It’s one of those low blows that Louis’ always struggled to look past, no matter the situation. Something inside him boils.

”So, you’ve talked to your mother,” Eleanor’s expression is ridiculously unbelieving, as her jaw visibly tightens. ”Should’ve known she’d run to you as soon as she could.”

”What did you think? Of course she called me. I can’t believe you did that, El. She’s sick, alright? She _doesn’t_ need to worry about us, too,” Louis shakes his head, disappointed.

Eleanor’s face shows fleeting signs of remorse, but she’s not the type of a woman to stand down in an argument. It’s a matter of principle. She schools herself and meets Louis’ eye again. ”I had no choice, Louis. For all I know, you’re cheating on me. I needed _someone_ to talk to.”

If Louis hadn’t felt incredulous before, he does now. The woman standing in font of him, paranoid and accusing, she’s not the woman Louis married over fifteen years ago. She simply isn’t. ”That’s rich. Coming from _you_ out of all people.”

For a moment there, Eleanor seems shocked Louis would bring up something like that, and yes, granted, it is old, something that actually hasn’t bothered Louis for a long time now. Something he’d put past him years ago. They’d been over this, swiped their old mistakes under the rug many years ago. There are things, however, that Louis can’t tolerate. One of those things is being accused of something he’s not done, while he’s under major stress, while he’s missing people close to him and feeling vulnerable and tired.

Eleanor knows as much, of course, but it has never stopped her from jabbing Louis right between his ribs, where he’s the weakest.

”As if that’s the same thing,” she hisses, lowering her voice, ”You’re screwing someone half your age.”

”I’m not screwing anyone,” Louis booms, his thoughts getting a little disoriented, his hand tightening around the still empty cup.

Despite the change in Louis’ tone, Eleanor still challenges his gaze once more, her posture tense and voice mocking. ”Which one of you gets to do the dirty work, huh? Is it him? Does he give you what I can’t?”

Under normal circumstances, Louis is by no means a violent person. He’s never been one to easily start shouting, always rather opting to throw snide comments and mean words at the other. He’s never attempted to hurt a person in his entire life, not on purpose, never punched a hand through a wall when mad. Something clicks inside his head in that moment, however, and the next thing he knows, he’s looking at pieces and bits of white porcelain laying on the floor, near his feet. He can hear the blood pumping in his ears, can feel the vein in his neck throbbing. His hands are shaking and _nothing’s right_. Louis feels like he’s not himself, the stress and anger poisoning every last cell in his body. His thoughts are white noise, gone.

With a shaky breath he crouches down and picks up the three biggest pieces of the porcelain, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat, afraid to say another word, afraid of breaking something else than a cup. Something he can’t fix.

”Never, ever speak another word about Harry. Ever,” Louis’ breathing is rapid and uneven as he meets Eleanor’s wide eyes. ”He has done nothing wrong and neither have I. This is the last time I’ll address this.”

Eleanor can’t seem to get another word out and Louis is thankful. He looks at the mess he’s made on the floor and knows he’s screwed up again. Knows he should’ve kept his cool, no matter what. The anger inside him is still bubbling, having barely dissipated at all from the impact of his actions. Louis knows better, he knows better than to let his wife rile him up, yet here they are. Their eyes are locked, Louis’ somewhere far away and his wife looks startled, still.

His voice is still venomous, his eyes dark and his tongue sharper than ever. ”I’m going to go now and you’re not going to call after me. Don’t expect me home and _don’t_ call my mother.”

With that, Louis slams the porcelain cup pieces on the stony counter top and leaves the kitchen. The sharp white chips end up slicing Louis’ left thumb and he knows he should stay to patch it up, but his thoughts are too jumbled up, too looming for him to stay here, in this house. He picks up his jacket just as Abbie comes to stand in the stairs.

”Dad? What happened? Are you leaving?” The girl looks scared and worried, and Louis has to turn his gaze away, to ignore the tug of his beating heart.

”I’ll be home tomorrow, princess,” he mutters, grabbing his car keys from the table next to the door, ”Keep company to your mum, yeah?”

”Drive safe, daddy,” Abbie waves after him and Louis knows he’s probably let his daughter down again.

Driving calms Louis down a lot and often he just drives around for hours after fights or stressful days at work. Right now he can’t see himself going home, though, not even if he’d drive for hours. He needs at least a night. Besides, he’s still wearing his suit, minus the tie that he’d ditched on the couch, and it’s highly uncomfortable. His hand’s still bleeding and the blood is getting on his trousers, warm liquid streaming down his palm and wrist.

He picks up Liam’s number and it rings, and rings, but there’s no answer. Cursing, he tries to call Niall, but the younger is not answering either. The universe seems to have a message for Louis and he truly wonders if this is where he’s come now. He’s afraid to let his thoughts go any further and makes a quick decision.

Whether he’ll regret it later or not, he’s not sure, but right now, he can’t be alone.

–

”Louis?”

This was a bad idea, would have been an appropriate thought to have, but instead it’s relief that washes over Louis’ body as Harry opens the door.

”What are you – Are you bleeding?” Harry’s eyes widen and Louis would explain, he would tell Harry to stay calm and not fuss over it, but exhaustion catches up to him as the adrenaline disappears from his system, finally.

Luckily, Harry doesn’t seem to need an explanation as he pulls Louis inside the ratty apartment and guides him straight to the bathroom. With no words uttered between them, the younger works on cleaning the wound and slowly patching it up. Louis can feel worry oozing from Harry and he wonders why he hasn’t asked anything yet. If it were Louis in his place, he’d probably be fuming by now.

”Aren’t you going to ask?”

”Do I want to know?” The man mutters, glancing up at Louis briefly. ”All done. Should change it in the morning though, if it bleeds through.”

Louis thanks him, his voice low and embarrassed. Instead of pestering him, the other just signals for him to follow. On the way out Louis takes a look at himself in the mirror and he can understand Harry’s worry. The usually tidy, clean-cut man is now gone, replaced with a ragged one, one that sports red rimmed eyes and chapped lips. Lines of stress are imprinted on his face and Louis thinks he probably hasn’t slept very well lately. He looks like a mess.

The apartment is a small one – the older notes as he walks after the younger – only carrying a kitchen, a tiny living room and what Louis assumes to be a bedroom. It’s obvious that someone’s tried to make the place look a bit more alive by decorating it with some things that Louis actually finds quite nice: a shelf filled with artists’ limited edition vinyl albums and some candles placed on the couch table. Nothing special, but makes a difference when the walls are as grey as they are.

”Where’s Ed?” Louis asks, as Harry puts away some things here and there, tidying up a little.

”Out with his colleagues. He won’t be back until the little hours. You can sit here and I’ll make us a cup of some herbal tea,” Harry taps the couch as he picks up some bed linen, presumably placed out for him, and leaves them on the other end of the couch.

”Thanks, but I don’t drink tea,” Louis admits, abashedly. He’s always felt like he’s a poor Brit for not having a strong liking for tea, but instead favouring coffee.

Apparently Harry feels the same, his brows raising. ”No coffee here. You’re going to learn to drink tea, mister.”

Louis doesn’t argue, not only because he’s too tired to do so, but also because he doesn’t really want to. He’s grateful Harry took him in, grateful he’s being such a good sport in this situation. Louis, had he been in Harry’s shoes, would probably have been a lot more demanding, asking the other to tell what lead to this, what made him look like he’s gone to hell and then back again. The older’s thankful Harry’s giving him the chance to calm down a little, though, to let his body catch up from the loss of the adrenaline.

Instead of dwelling in his thoughts for the moment given alone, Louis makes himself comfortable on the couch. He presses himself against the corner of it and pulls on the blanket Harry had just moved out of the way. On a whim Louis sniffs it and is surprised to realise it smells like Harry. He figures the younger must have stayed for at least one night already, and even though he’s curious to ask what business Harry has here, specifically, the better part of him decides not to. Harry would’ve told him if he wanted to.

”Here,” the other emerges from the kitchen carrying two mugs. ”It’s very hot so be careful.”

Louis takes the other mug from his friend and lets it warm his hands where the blood has run out, leaving them cold and stiff. The blanket is heavy on Louis’ shoulders and even though he realises how absurd the situation is, how chaotic he’s still feeling, like it all had happened so quickly, he still feels a little bit safer underneath it.

Harry keeps glancing at him, probably trying to make something out of Louis’ posture or expression and Louis appreciates his efforts. ”I can tell you, if you’d like.”

The younger seems taken off guard by the words in the relatively silent apartment, but he nods nonetheless. ”If you want to.”

”We fought. Eleanor and I,” Louis swallows and licks at his dry lips, ”I don’t usually get aggressive like that, you know. I have a sharp tongue, sure, but I’ve never broken anything before. I feel terrible, for Abbie if not for anything else.”

Harry moves closer to Louis on the couch and places his hand on Louis’ upper arm in a comforting manner. ”Why don’t you start from the beginning, hm?”

Louis meets the younger’s gaze, with much difficulty. He doesn’t want to tell Harry that he was actually the one the fight lead to. Harry doesn’t have to get upset, too. It’s Louis’ mess of a marriage that’s the actual problem anyway. ”I’ve been busier with work, more than usually. Barely had any time to stay at home, let alone had any energy to socialize with El. I’ve been stressed out for various other reasons, too. Mainly about my mum, she’s sick and we know next to nothing about what’s wrong with her, so, yeah.”

Louis pauses to take a sip from the tea, to see how it tastes, maybe to calm himself down a little, too. It’s nothing like coffee, but it’s not bad. Much more calming, less bitter and not as strong. It’s soothing, in a way. It’s almost as if the liquid is mixing with the blood in his veins, warming him allover.

”I’m sorry about your mum,” Harry says with a low voice, giving Louis’ arm a stroke.

”Thanks,” the older gives him a small, thankful smile, ”Either way. I’ve not been very well lately. You’ve been busy, too, so I haven’t really been able to step out of the every-day-bubble either. When I got home today, Eleanor started to blame me for not investing in our marriage, not being around enough. And more than that, for not being around for Abbie.”

”Lou,” Harry looks sad, his eyes full of pity and Louis doesn’t want to look at him, ”You’re a great dad, yeah?”

Louis shakes his head, already feeling the self-loathe swimming in. ”The truth is, I don’t really care that much for mine and El’s marriage. As horrible as it may sound, I’m not there for her. I do it for Abigail. She’d be broken if we got divorced and I don’t want her to go through what I did, when I was younger.”

”Is it the same though? Wasn’t your mother left without any warning, at least the second time around?” Harry tries to reach Louis’ eyes, his voice soft, coaxing. ”Sometimes children suffer more from the fights and the hostile feelings their parents go through than the actual divorce, you know.”

Louis lifts his gaze and there’s something in Harry’s eyes that tells him this isn’t just an assumption. ”Like you?”

The curly haired man nods, offering a small smile to Louis. ”Like me, yeah. My dad left and my life got much better. Later, when Robin came in the picture, my mum got so much happier, too. I actually think that the year he moved in with us was one of the best ones to date.”

Harry’s smile is genuine, his eyes too and Louis suddenly feels overwhelmed by the conversation. He’s never discussed divorcing Eleanor out loud. He’s thought about it, he’s joked about it, but never truly discussed it with anyone. It had always felt like the last resolution, only to be even considered for real if nothing else could be done anymore. The older has never been the quitting type.

”I’m scared, Harry,” Louis chuckles humorlessly, ”I’ve done this for over fifteen years. I don’t know any other life. I don’t think I could go through it right now, with my mother and all that.”

Harry inches a bit closer, taking Louis under his arm and hugging the smaller to his side. ”You don’t have to, okay? But now you know it’s an option. And I can guarantee you, life won’t end there.”

Louis doesn’t bother answering, just hides his face in Harry’s chest and takes in the familiar scent. His muscles feel sore from all the tension, but right now he feels alright. He takes a bigger gulp of the tea, and as the warm liquid warms in his throat, Harry keeps stroking his right arm, humming into his hair.

”How’s the tea?”

”Good, obviously,” Louis says with a tiny hint of amusement in his voice.

”Obviously,” Harry confirms and Louis can feel him smiling against his hair.

They stay like that for a moment, both in their own minds, working through whatever it is that might occupy their thoughts. Louis can feel sleep catching up to him, the exhaustion knocking on his door and pulling him down the rabbit hole with it. He awakes to Harry’s gentle touch on his cheek.

”D’you want to stay for the night? I can bunk with Ed, you can have the couch.”

”He doesn’t mind me staying?” Louis mumbles, drowsy.

”Nah,” Harry shakes his head and asks Louis to get up. ”We have to get you changed. Take off the suit, I’ll bring you something comfier.”

With much effort Louis removes the dress shirt and the blood-stained trousers, along with his shoes, just in time for Harry to come back with a t-shirt and some sweatpants. ”They’re probably much too big on you, but they’ll have to do for now.”

”Anything’s fine, really.”

Louis thanks Harry as he takes the clothes from him and slips into them. They’re at least two sizes too big for Louis, but they’re soft and comfortable and smell like Harry. Louis thinks he might keep them if Harry won’t ask them back.

”Here, I brought you another blanket and a pillow.”

”Thank you, so much, Haz,” Louis says as he throws the linen on the couch and picks up Harry’s in return and hands them over to the younger.

”It’s nothing, really,” Harry assures as he steps closer to Louis, just to place a small kiss on Louis’ forehead.

It takes Louis by surprise, but he tries not to show it. ”Sleep tight, yeah?”

”You too, Lou.”

When Harry disappears in to the bedroom and the lights are off, Louis lies down on the couch again and pulls the blanket on top of himself. It’s not warm and it doesn’t smell like Harry, but it’ll have to do. Various different things run through Louis’ mind, including how nice it would be to just have Harry here to keep him warm, before he falls in to a deep slumber, one that’s bound to take away some of the fatigue.

–

The clock is way past noon before Louis manages to crack his eyes open and squint at the rare sunlight filtering through the window. It takes him a moment or two to distinguish where he’s at, until he remembers the events from the previous night. The memory doesn’t exactly inspire him to get up and he throws his aching hand in front of his eyes, sighing. He feels like he’d drank something last night, the good night’s sleep messing with his exhausted body.

He can hear talking coming from the kitchen as he goes to pick up his phone from the floor. He’d assumed it’d be dead by now, but instead finds the phone fully charged. He figures Harry must’ve done that this morning. The screen reads three missed calls, one from Liam, one from Niall and another one from Zayn. He’s also had two texts, both are from Abbie.

_Are you alright? Uncle Liam called and said he couldn’t reach you? (8.14 a.m.)_

_Dad? Please just tell me you’ve not drank and driven? (9.57 a.m.)_

The heart in his chest twinges as he thinks of the girl sitting in her room, alone, not knowing where her father is. Louis swallows away the pain, the guilt and types a quick reply to Abbie, assuring her that he’s not drank anything else than tea and that he slept at another friend’s place. He promises to call Liam as soon as possible, too. He leaves his phone on the couch as he shuffles to the kitchen, holding on to his pants so that they don’t actually fall off. The whole kitchen smells like pancakes and eggs and only now Louis realises how hungry he is, having not eaten in well over twenty hours.

”Oh. I see your guest has risen from the dead, Harry,” a ginger haired man with a heavy accent says teasingly from behind his glasses. Louis figures he’s Ed.

Harry turns around from the stove and meets Louis’ eyes. ”G’morning. Take a seat, there’s breakfast.”

”Thanks,” Louis mumbles, aiming a smile at both of them, ”I’m Louis. You must be Ed?”

They shake hands and the ginger man confirms Louis’ suspicion. As the oldest picks up some pancakes onto his plate and starts eating, delighted to find the taste to be amazing, Ed turns around on his bar stool to show Harry something on his phone. They both laugh and Louis can’t help but notice the way Ed’s hand rests on Harry’s hip and how Harry leans into that touch, the contact between them natural.

He wonders if Ed’s maybe something more than just a friend after all, despite what Harry had said. Of course it feels kind of silly to think that Harry wouldn’t have said anything about it, it’s not like they don’t trust each other. Harry’s told him much more personal things before. Still, the thought keeps nagging at Louis as he watches them interact while he’s eating.

”So, Louis,” Ed suddenly says, turning to look at him. ”I got to say I was just a tiny bit surprised to find a strange man, a _married man_ , sleeping on my couch when I got home last night.”

The man is grinning and he glances at Harry with mischief in his eyes, before he turns back to Louis. ”Yeah, I’m so sorry for intruding like that. I would’ve gone somewhere else, but none of my other friends were picking up their phones.”

"That’s alright, I don’t mind. What surprised me was that Harry would pick up a married bloke. Never thought he’d be the one to break a marriage, an institution he so solemnly swears on,” Ed rolls his eyes and earns a ’ _hey_ ’ from Harry.

”I do believe in it, alright. And I did not break any marriage, Mr. Sheeran. We’re just friends,” Harry lectures, poking the other man on the back.

Louis feels a small weight being lifted as he realises Harry actually isn’t dating Ed and his mood rises significantly as he also realises that Ed, in fact, thought Harry could be interested in someone like Louis. It makes him feel younger by at least ten years, which seems to be a constant state of mind for him when he’s with Harry nowadays.

”Harry and I are just friends,” Louis confirms then, taking a bite out of his pancake. ”And now, yet again, I owe him one.”

”Just give him a blowie, think that should settle it,” Ed shrugs nonchalantly, then focusing on his phone again.

Louis gives Harry a questioning look from over Ed’s head and Harry replies with a fond eye-roll and a small laugh. The whole situation is kind of surreal, and definitely not something Louis is used to. He doesn’t really mind though, since he’s absolutely sure this beats being at home.

”So, Ed. What do you do for living?” Louis asks after a while of silence, just to stir up some conversation, unable to handle the uneasy feeling he gets while quiet.

”I’m a musician. Trying to be, at least. That’s why Harry’s here, actually,” Ed points at the said man - who’s now doing the dishes - with his thumb. ”He’s helping me design the cover for my album and pitch it to the record label I’m at. My previous designer bailed on me and I knew I could trust Harry to get it done in time.”

”Wow. I didn’t know Harry had a knack for drawing and designing as well,” Louis raises his brows, impressed.

Harry laughs from the sink and glances at Louis from over his shoulder. ”Didn’t I once tell you there’s not many things I can’t do?”

Louis laughs as well and nods. ”Think you did, yeah.”

”This guy’s very literal, in case you haven’t noticed,” Ed says with a smile of his own.

”I’m beginning to.”

They chat away at the table, Harry eventually joining them and Louis starts feeling more normal again. The conversation flows rather easily between the three of them and the older can understand why Harry and Ed are such a good friends. Ed’s funny and nice and even more so very intuitive and understanding. Him and Harry, they share quite a lot of good traits. It’s different seeing Harry with his own people and makes Louis wonder what it’d be like to see the man with his own family. His mind builds up scenarios on its own, of Harry and his mother laughing while cooking, of him and Gemma bantering. Something swirls in his stomach at the thought of actually having a spot, clear place, in the younger’s life. At the moment he feels like he’s on foreign land, an unknown territory, yet to meet any of the man’s family. It’s an odd sensation, but he stores it away to inspect later, figure out whether it’s a feeling big enough to act on, somehow.

After an hour or so Ed has to get to the studio again and he bids them goodbye with a halfhearted promise to call Louis one day so they can head out for a pint. Harry seems pleased with how well they got on with each other and Louis can understand that. It’s the exact same feeling he had at the night of the Christmas party.

_[Birdy - Lifted](https://open.spotify.com/track/2DjaAYJgTSIsFSZGbC7p7b) _

”How are you feeling?” Harry asks as they sit around the kitchen table with steaming mugs of tea, the flat quiet once again.

Louis doesn’t feel out of place anymore, even with his over-sized clothes and the herbal tea in front of him. He feels almost content, if only there was no forthcoming encounter with his family.

”Much better, thanks to you,” Louis smiles at the other and drinks some from the mug.

Harry says it’s nothing, really, and asks if Louis’ thoughts have cleared any. Louis assumes he’s referring to the part where he’d actually voiced out his thoughts about getting a divorce, and feels a surge of discomfort go through him. ”Some, yeah.”

The lanky man raises a questioning brow and Louis goes on to specify. ”I definitely do wonder how am I still married to Eleanor, why haven’t I put an end to this, but at the same time I keep thinking about Abbie. She needs me in her life.”

Harry looks down at his mug and nods in understanding, though Louis senses that he’d want to say something. He’s too afraid to ask the younger about it, however, so he let’s it go and instead asks the man when can they meet up the next, when will he be in London.

”I think I’ll be back after Christmas. I have a holiday in February, some time after my birthday, and I’m planning to spend it here.”

”And we can meet up then?”

”Of course we can,” Harry’s tone is amused, his eyes sparkling again and Louis thinks he’s just about ready to leave now, something happy blooming in his chest. ”If we don’t see before that.”

”Hope we do.”

When Louis had left his house the previous night, he’d felt sick, felt hurt and angry and all those emotions he wishes he won’t have to feel in a long time. Now he’s here, sitting with Harry and enjoying a cup of tea and the atmosphere is calm, warm even. The difference is so stark, it should feel weird, but it doesn’t. Harry tells him stories about his mother and sister again and this time Louis tells more about his siblings too, about his life and he feels like Harry genuinely wants to know all about it, drinking in every word Louis utters. It feels like it could be summer, like they’re bathing in the sunlight, just getting to know each other on a deeper level, learning to know the curves and the edges of each other. Louis feels out of reality, a little bit, like he’s been cut out of his life, along with Harry and the ratty apartment, and then pasted into some alternative reality. The only reminder of his current situation the bandage on his hand.

”Alright, well, I’d very much like to meet your sisters and brother one day,” Harry says with a delighted smile and Louis can tell he’s going to love all of them, just like they’re going to love him.

”We better make that happen then,” the older chuckles and gets up to place his mug in the sink. ”Alright. I think I need to head back home now, have to make a small detour to see Liam, before.”

Harry nods and gets up as well. ”I washed your suit this morning. It’s probably almost dry by now. I can put it in a bag for you.”

As the younger works on putting Louis’ clothes in order, the other texts Liam he’ll be over in less than half hour and also tells Abbie he’ll be home before five. The warm feeling in his chest is something he’s reluctant to let go of, he wishes he could take a part of this feeling with him, so he’d be able to drown in the sense of safety whenever need be. Louis knows he can’t do that, so instead he taps on his iPhone and changes its wallpaper into a picture of one of his and Harry’s FaceTime calls. A small smile spreads on his lips as he looks at the younger’s smiling face on the screen. Harry comes back soon enough with the clothes wrapped in a plastic bag, startling the older out of his thoughts as he hands them to Louis.

”You can keep my clothes for now. Give them back to me when we see the next time.”

”Thank you,” Louis strokes the soft cotton fabric of Harry’s t-shirt and still dreams of keeping it to himself.

As he pulls on the dress shoes, they get a good laugh out of how he looks, but after that both fall silent. Neither one seems to know what to say. Louis doesn’t want to leave at all and Harry appears hesitant to let him go, too. Louis knows he can’t avoid going home much longer, his selfish needs be damned. This moment reminds him of the last time they’d said goodbye and it bothers him greatly that it feels harder every time. Harry’s gnawing on his lip and his brows are knitted, just as Louis imagines himself looking like at the moment.

”Why’s this so hard every time?” Harry mumbles, letting out a short laugh.

”Wish I’d know,” Louis shrugs, still fiddling with the material of Harry’s shirt.

Ed’s small hall forces them to stand close to each other. The close proximity is what urges Louis to eventually place his hand on Harry’s chest and then slide it up to go around his neck, pulling him in. Harry buries his face into Louis’ shoulder gladly and the older can feel his teeth sinking into the fabric there softly, while Louis lets his forehead rest on Harry’s chest.

The even heartbeat under his skin matches Louis’ and he tries his best to remember the calming sound of it for later. Harry’s much bigger palms are splayed on his back, rubbing circles on it, while Louis’ have a tight hold on the back of Harry’s sweater. They sway slowly from side to side in a small movement, the bag of clothes hitting Harry lightly every now and then in the leg, and Louis thinks he could probably fall asleep right here if they did this long enough.

”Are you going to be okay?” Harry whispers, his tone worried.

Louis sighs and drops his hands to circle them around Harry’s hips. ”Eventually,” he mutters and turns his head so that his cheek is resting on Harry. His lips and nose are so close to Harry’s cheek he can smell the younger’s shower gel.

Louis can see Harry smiling subtly as he blows some air on to the taller’s cheek. Everything feels so natural Louis wants to remember this for the rest of his life, in case he’ll never get another moment like this. ”You look pretty from this angle.”

Harry snorts. ”And the others?”

”Meh,” Louis’ voice is low, it would feel like a crime to break the tranquil atmosphere around them.

”Thanks,” Harry’s smiling wider now, his dimple so deep Louis could poke it with his nose, so he does. Harry laughs at that, and still, _still_ the moment feels intimate, like a shared secret. Louis wants to paint a picture of this, store it in his mind and always be able to dig it up from those dusty boxes whenever he’s feeling like he’s never truly been happy, like he’s not reached that point in his life, not once.

Louis’ heart swells, his own lips pulling in to a smile as well. On a whim, he presses a small, lingering kiss to Harry’s cheek. ”Thank you for everything, Haz.”

The younger lifts his head to look at Louis in the eyes. Light dances in his green emeralds, sincerity oozing from the expression on his face as he softly twiddles with the hair in Louis’ neck. ”Anytime.”

For half of a second Louis considers doing something stupid, but the thought is gone as fast as it came. Instead he closes his eyes and sighs audibly, letting his head drop for a moment, preparing to let go.

”I think I’ll go now. Please thank Ed for me once more, will you?”

Harry steps back, his hand lingering on Louis’ arm for a few seconds longer before he completely detaches himself. ”I will. Call me tonight.”

”Definitely.”

When Louis steps out of the door and hears it close behind him, he has to press his eyes tightly shut and fist his hand in the pocket of Harry’s pants so that he doesn’t turn around and go back. His chest feels tight and as much as he would like to believe that it’s solely for the reason that he has to go and face the mess he’d left behind the night before, he’s painfully aware of the inexplicable longing filling his lungs.

 

**\- December 24th, Friday**

Being woken by a couple of eight-year-olds is something Louis, contrary to general belief, doesn’t mind at all. Ernest is sitting on top of Louis’ stomach, lightly drumming on his chest while Doris is sticking her finger in his ear from the floor.

”For such old children you two sure act like little kids,” Louis teases as he grabs Doris from where she’s kneeling down and throws the giggling girl right next to him on the bed.

Ernest falls next to his twin sister and so Louis starts tickling them ruthlessly, earning delighted squeals and laughs. The two are gasping for air, begging their older brother to let them go, promising they’ll ’ _never ever do anything like this again_ ’, but Louis doesn’t release them, despite the whining and wriggling.

”You’ll kill ’em Lou,” Johannah laughs as she appears at the door.

Louis’ focus fails for a second and the kids use that to their advantage, crawling away from their brother to run into freedom, right past their mother. Louis smiles fondly after them as he gets up from the bed to hug Jay.

”Morning, mum.”

”G’morning and happy 36th birthday, baby boy. I’ve made breakfast for you,” Jay kisses him on the cheek and pulls him after her to the kitchen.

The whole family is gathered around it, chatting away, bickering and laughing at the same time. Louis can feel his chest tighten as he takes in all the food: scones, pancakes, toast, eggs and bacon and multiple other things his mum has prepared. He feels loved and taken and it only gets worse when his siblings, Abbie and Dan scramble up to sing him happy birthday.

”Thank you,” he says with a huge smile on his face as he goes through each and every one of them, giving a hug to everyone. ”Mum, you didn’t have to make all this. I would have been fine with some tea and scones, really.”

”What’s up with this tea thing, Lou?” Lottie asks as they take their seats and begin to eat.

”What d’you mean?”

”You’ve always been a coffee kind of person. Never seen you drink tea this much,” his sister points out, ”Kind of creeps me out.”

Louis raises his brows and shrugs, telling her he finally got to taste the right kind of a tea. ”And anyways. Coffee just makes it harder to sleep.”

The breakfast consists of laughter, noise and stories, all things Louis has missed for the longest of time. He’s been home for almost a week now, but he still feels overwhelmed by all the emotions that catch up to him after seeing the whole family at once. That rarely happens, not even on every Christmas. This year Louis took a head-start, informing Liam he’d start his vacation five days early, asking him to delegate the less important tasks to some of Louis’ most trusted employees and trying to postpone the more important things until after Christmas and hopefully New Year’s Eve. Despite Liam’s initial worry, the man had wished Louis happy holidays and the older knows his assistant had been happy to hear Louis wanted a break himself.

After his and El’s fight Louis had decided the best thing for them is time. He’d gone home from Ed’s and El had apologised for calling his mother, but also side noted that Louis shouldn’t have acted like he did. Louis had said he's sorry as well, of course, but in the same breath told Eleanor that he needed time with his own family, time away from the center of it all. There’d been hurt on his wife’s face and some heavy feelings had escorted Louis out of the house, but this week he’d been able to start breathing easier again.

He left on the same evening, telling Abbie he’d go to her grandmother’s place to help take care of the kids’ and set up for Christmas. Abbie had been mostly happy about it, glad that Louis decided to take an extended holiday. Couple of days later Louis had called her and asked if she wanted to go spend the Christmas with Eleanor’s parents or come to Jay and Dan’s house. Abbie had chosen Louis’ family on the ground that she sees her father less than her mother. She had arrived on the 22nd and ever since Louis has been spending his days playing games and watching movies with the kids.

Even though Louis’ family doesn’t live far away from the city at all, it’s a completely different place than Central London. Louis’ house is located in Northern London, not really too close to the center either, but it’s still far from this place. There’s less traffic, less people and unwanted noise around here. He’s enjoyed his stay more than ever before and what’s made it so much greater is that he’s been able to FaceTime Harry nearly every day, in peace. Louis appreciates that Harry’s making extra effort to show him support, it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Both feelings Louis gets to feel rarely and doesn’t quite know what to do with them.

After the breakfast Louis sits down out on the terrace with his mum, while the younger kids go out to the park with Fizzy and Lottie. Dan uses the time to get some work done on his laptop, so Jay decides it’s time to get Louis alone for the first time after his arrival.

_[Billy Joel - Vienna](https://open.spotify.com/track/4U45aEWtQhrm8A5mxPaFZ7) _

They sit down on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench, both wrapped up in blankets and holding steaming mugs of tea. ”Are you sure you’re fine to be outside?”

”Yeah, I’m good,” Jay nods, sipping from the warm cup. ”We’re not here to talk about me, darling.”

Louis smiles a little, looking down at his already reddening hands. He feels vulnerable and naked under his mother’s gaze, like she’s able to tell exactly what’s wrong. Which is silly, of course. Jay wouldn’t ask if she knew. ”Life’s just hard, that’s all.”

”You don’t throw cups when life gets hard, Louis,” Jay points out, her voice gentle, not accusative at all. ”Are you sure you can’t specify what’s wrong at all? Not even to your mother?”

Louis lifts his gaze again, inspecting the yard more closely. It’s big and covered in frost all over. Everything’s on hold, waiting for the winter to be over, waiting for better, warmer days. Louis feels like his life is at the same point. ”I’m not happy. Not with her. Not with this job.” He shakes his head, his jaw clenching.

His mother reaches out to place her left hand on top of Louis’, squeezing it for comfort. ”That’s alright, darling. It’s alright to admit you’re not happy, not content with everything in your life.”

Louis shakes his head again, still refusing to look at Jay. ”No, but. That means that I have made a mistake. Not, like, a small, trivial mistake, but a huge one. One that I can’t take back or just swipe under the rug anymore.”

Jay comes closer, her hand still tightly on top of Louis’. ”I know it can feel scary to admit something like that. It’s been a long time since you’ve made a decision for yourself, Louis,” his mother’s voice is low, full of emotions Louis can’t place, not right now. ”But you made that choice long, long time ago. Mistakes expire, too, I think. If you keep going like this, Lou, you’ll burn yourself out.”

”I don’t know any other life, mum,” Louis whispers, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. ”It was easy to do what I did sixteen years ago because I couldn’t see any other life for myself.”

”Can you now?”

Louis finally turns to look at Jay, his lashes fluttering. ”I don’t know. There’s no other constants in my life other than my work, Abbie and Eleanor. If I give up two of those things, where do I end up.”

Jay offers him a comforting smile and rubs his shoulder. ”Anywhere, darling. Sometimes giving up the thing that grounds you might show you that it was not an anchor that was holding you in place, but a rusty shipwreck dragging you down instead.”

”Are you trying to say that sometimes starting anew will bring you better things?” Louis chuckles, amusement trying to flicker through his blue eyes, but dying mid-way.

”If that’s what you’re hearing, then yes,” Jay nods. ”That’s a good piece of advice.”

Louis smiles at his mother the best he can, but his thoughts are running wild again, his heart clenching in his chest. He feels as if he’s in a cage. He can reach the key, but the key has been heated up to be burning hot and he knows touching it will sting. It’ll only hurt for a while, though, and the only reminder of the cage would be some scars on his hand. That scares him a little, but scarier is what he’ll find outside the cage.

A panda bear raised in a cage, being fed and taken care of, wouldn’t make it outside the cage. Louis wonders if he’s a tame panda.

”Look. You don’t have to make any decisions today. Don’t stress over it right now, you’re on a holiday, love,” Jay reminds him. ”The first thing you can do is delegate some of that workload of yours to your employees. The other things, they can wait for now.”

Louis thinks his mother always knows the right things to say and he’s glad he has her here with him. The thought reminds him to ask about another thing, a thing he’s efficiently pushed away from his mind for a long time now. ”The results came, didn’t they?”

Jay’s face falls, her eyes fill with sadness. Louis can feel the shift in her mood, in the air even. ”Lou. Let’s not talk about this on your birthday, yeah? We can do this after Christmas. It’s nothing urgent, nothing that can’t wait a few days.”

She’s nearly begging, Louis can hear it in her voice what this means to her. He’s never wanted anything else more than to make his mother happy, so he complies, even though there’s worry in the back of his head.

”Good. And I still have one birthday present for you. It should arrive soon enough,” Jay’s eyes are twinkling again, mischief clear in her grin.

”Oh God, mum. What have you ordered? I’m not getting a blow up doll, am I?” Louis cries out, hiding his face in his mother’s shoulder.

”What?” Jay laughs, petting Louis’ hair. ”Are you kidding me? Would I ever do that?”

”I wouldn’t put it past you,” Louis joins the laughter and swipes his rather long fringe out of his eyes. ”But I trust your taste.”

”It wasn’t just me, alright. Was Lottie and Abbie too, so thank them, if you like it,” Jay says, her voice warm.

”And if I don’t?”

The woman shakes her head, biting down on her lower lip. ”I don’t see that happening, to be honest.”

Louis raises his brows. ”Wow, aren’t you confident.”

Jay shrugs and rubs Louis’ neck with her warm hand. ”You’ll just have to wait and see. Let’s go inside, I want some hot chocolate.”

–

An hour or so later the doorbell rings, while they’re all sat around the TV to watch some kids’ movie. Louis doesn’t think much of it until he notices how Lottie and Abbie both perk up, along with his mother, the three of them sharing an excited, secretive smiles. He figures it must be the birthday surprise Jay mentioned earlier.

”Should I get that?” He asks, already getting up from the couch.

The younger twins don’t even take notice of Louis getting up or the doorbell ringing, too engrossed with the movie. The rest of them just eye curiously after him. Louis leaves the others in the common room and goes to get the door. Before he opens it he wonders what could they have had delivered on Christmas Eve at one p.m, what place does deliveries at this time.

Much to no one’s surprise, Louis’ jaw drops the moment he pulls the door open. Had he not been sober for such a long time now, he’d guess he must be drunk because certainly it can’t be _his_ curly haired, tattooed 23-year-old friend standing in front of him with his lips pulled into a smile so big Louis thinks he might go blind.

”Happy birthday!”

Two seconds, no more, no less, and Louis throws his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls the man into the tightest hug he’s ever given anyone. Harry lets out an ’ _oompf_ ’ sound and laughs, circling his arms around Louis’ tiny waist.

”Happy to see me?” The younger teases and Louis swats at his back, but a relieved laugh leaves his mouth nonetheless.

”You nearly gave me a heart attack, you bloody idiot,” he mutters into Harry’s ear, his voice wavering the tiniest bit. For his face’s sake, he hopes that Harry doesn’t hear it.

The taller man snorts and pets the back of Louis’ head gently. ”You must be old then. Like seriously old. What are you now, ninety?”

”Alright, alright. That’s enough then,” Louis grumbles, pulling away from the younger who makes grabby hands at him.

”No, I was joking,” Harry drawls, ”Come back, I didn’t get enough of you yet.”

The older crosses his arms on his chest and shakes his head, a smug smile on his lips. ”You brought it upon yourself, Styles.”

Just as Harry is, presumably, about to start whining at Louis for being the incarnation of the devil, Jay appears in the hallway with the rest of the family in tow. They keep a safe distance from the men, though, the youngest ones clearly intrigued by this new stranger, peeking at the tall man from behind Dan. Jay’s the first one to make her way to them, with a smile on her lips.

”Hi, there. I’m Johannah, Louis’ mother,” she offers her hand to Harry, who takes it without hesitation.

The younger flashes Jay his most charming smile, both dimples showing and the whole row of white teeth at display. Louis internally sighs, maybe to hide the adoration that somehow floats into his heart. ”Nice to meet you. My name’s Harry, I’m your son’s best friend.”

Jay lifts her brows and turns to look at Louis, her lips tugging with amusement. ”Oh, my. What happened to Liam?”

”Ah, well,” Louis scratches his neck and gestures towards Harry with his head. ”Can you say no to that?”

Harry widens his smile a bit more, if that’s even possible, and Jay inevitably bursts into a laugh, pulling Harry in for a hug. ”It’s really great to have you here, Harry.”

”Thank you for inviting me.”

The rest of the family get to meet Harry one by one, Louis proudly presenting them like they’re his own achievements. Each sibling gets charmed out of their pants by Louis’ birthday present, something the older can’t say he’s surprised about. He enjoys seeing his loved ones together, seeing them getting along with each other like this, it makes him feel fuzzy inside. It’s not the first time he finds himself hoping that he’d get to meet Harry’s family in person as well.

Abbie comes up to meet Harry the last and Louis automatically perks up. He’d been so engrossed with seeing his friend, he’d completely forgotten his daughter would finally meet this person who’s so important to Louis.

”Harry,” Louis breathes out some nerves and pulls Abbie under his arm. ”This is my daughter, Abigail. Abbie, this is my best friend Harry, whom I’ve talked about.”

”Talked about?” Abbie huffs, a smile playing on her lips. ”You’ve barely mentioned him. I can see why, though. He’s kind of a treat. Aren’t you?”

Louis’ eyes widen at the words and it’s safe to say nearly everyone else in the room burst into a laugh, including both Abbie and Harry. The younger man has the decency to throw him an apologetic look, but Louis still feels like he’s been left out of an inside joke and he can’t say he likes it. ”Have you been talking to Zayn again?”

”Relax, dad. It was me who called Harry and asked him to come,” Abbie explains, her tone patronizing as she pats Louis’ stomach lovingly. ”We’ve talked on the phone a couple of times during the past week. We’ve even bonded over your weird obsession for  _Grease_.”

Louis can’t stop looking between the two, trying to figure out how exactly should he feel about this. He’s overjoyed to see that the two get on, of course, but at the same time he feels a little bit betrayed, not having known that they were plotting against him behind his back. Harry’s the second worst liar Louis’ ever met, right after Liam and they’d been talking everyday. How’d he missed this? Eventually he squints at both of them and gives each a poke in the stomach, accompanied with a loud huff. ”You two are not getting any cake today, you hear me?”

Abbie groans and complains how Louis can never appreciate anything anyone ever does for him before traipsing away from them, towards the living room, bravely flipping her father off while going. Louis glances after her and sees that the rest of the family are following suit, Jay looking back over her shoulder to throw them a smile.

The older turns back to face Harry and finds him already staring with a smile on his lips. ”Hey you.”

”Hi,” Louis breathes out, a subtle smile making its way on his lips, too.

”Am I a pleasant birthday surprise? Or should I just go and not interrupt your family time?” The younger points towards the door with his thumb, a tantalizing smile on his lips.

Louis lets out a silent laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He shakes his head and licks his lips. ”Do I look like I want you to go?”

Harry pretends to ponder, biting on his lower lip. ”I guess you don’t seem _too_ bothered by me being here.”

”I’m really glad you came,” Louis admits, squeezing Harry’s arm reassuringly.

The younger glances at the hand and then meets Louis’ gaze. ”I’m glad to be here.”

They stare at each other for a moment or two, just standing there. Neither one is saying it, but the words floating right there, between them, are clear to both: _I missed you_. The remains of stress leave Louis’ body gradually as he gets to study Harry’s twisting lips and bright eyes. He can’t explain it, but Harry’s there and it’s all a little bit better now.

”I didn’t bring a gift, I hope it’s okay,” the younger eventually muses, his brows knitting like he’s suddenly worried he’s being totally inconsiderate.

Louis rolls his eyes and shakes his head. ”You didn’t have to. I’ve got it all here, now haven’t I,” the smaller knows his eyes are twinkling and he probably looks much too fond, but he’s turning thirty-six today, so he’ll let it slip past his fingers.

Harry’s cheeks blush the tiniest bit, a lovely pink colouring them. Just as Louis is about to tease him, the younger threads his fingers through the smaller man’s fringe, his palm stroking the scalp there, almost erupting a very, _very_ awkward noise from Louis. ”Yeah,” the other then says, his eyes bright and green, ”You’ve got it all now.”

The large hand falls away too soon for Louis to react to it, but the skin under his hair is still tingling from the touch, shivers running down the older’s traitorous body. He has to lick his suddenly dry lips, eyes still locked with his friend’s. There’s something there, something a little new, but Louis doesn’t think he can get into it right now, so it falls under the category ’ _deal with after the holidays_ ’.

”Do you want to eat the cake?” he asks after his thoughts are safely tucked into that brown box at the back of his mind.

”Will you feed me?” Harry smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.

”Absolutely not,” the older deadpans, but laughs nonetheless, even though it may come out a little breathy.

Harry pouts, suddenly capturing Louis in between his arms, pretending to bite the man’s ear. ”I guess I’ll just eat you then.”

Accompanied with laughter, they make their way to the kitchen, where Louis’ family is already putting up plates and spoons on the table, along with Jay’s finest glasses. The fuss and noise are massive, but Harry seems to fit right in as he offers to help.

Louis stands back and tries to rein in the ridiculous smile, failing miserably. But then again, why shouldn’t a man be happy on his 36th birthday? Why not.

–

Some hours later, after they’d eaten well and Harry and Louis’ family had gotten to know each other a little bit better, Louis had made them some tea and guided Harry out on the terrace, to catch up. Harry thinks the whole house is adorable, including its occupants. What’s even more adorable is the way the older man acts around them.

Louis is much older than Harry and he seems even more mature while being with Abbie, the father side of the man popping up. But with his siblings, he immediately turns into a brother instead of a father. The shift is interesting, all the seriousness disappearing at the snap of the fingers, replaced with a mirth. He seems younger, more playful than most times. Harry likes to think he’s brought a much younger side out of Louis himself, too, but what those kids manage to do is something completely different.

They’re both wrapped up in blankets and the tea is warm in Harry’s hands.

”I actually already did this with my mum earlier today,” Louis admits, his voice soft like his tousled hair.

”Did you have a good talk?” Harry asks, sipping from the cup Louis had prepared for him. It’s sweet, tasting like honey and berries.

”I guess you could say that, yeah,” the older nods, lighting a cigarette. ”D’you mind?”

Harry shakes his head, already gotten used to Louis’ bad habit. The smell actually reminds him of Louis, whenever he walks past someone smoking on the streets. It’s painful on the days Harry feels like he might die from the missing. He wouldn’t tell Louis that.

”I see you’ve picked up on drinking tea,” Harry points out, gesturing towards the mugs they’re holding.

Louis looks down at the beverage and nods. ”It calms me down more than coffee does.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else, just drinks from his mug again and swings his legs the best he can, wrapped up in the blanket. The yard around them is rather big, much bigger Harry’s home ever had. He knows that Louis didn’t spend his childhood in this house, though, and is aware it’s probably never brought much joy to the man, but he still finds himself wondering what was Louis’ childhood home like. The thirteen years age difference between them probably showing the best when comparing their early years, both having lived at quite the different time.

He glances at Louis and can see he’s thinking about something. The older is smoking, taking slow, lazy drags from the cigarette. The man looks soft and young, not at all like a 36-year-old. His too-big-sweater has climbed up his arm a bit, revealing some of Louis’ tattoos. Harry remembers the first time he’d found out Louis even had tattoos. It was at the hotel in Manchester, when the older had been changing clothes. Harry would have commented on them, asked Louis to tell him what each meant, but he’d been too busy being mesmerized by the light that had illuminated his chest and belly, his face and delicate arms. He’d looked like a painting and that must have also been the first time Harry had allowed himself to feel a surge of want, of proper attraction towards the man.

Ever since that day it had been clear to Harry Louis would never be just anyone to him. He’d never risk their friendship, never jeopardize what they had built, but he can’t deny what he feels for the other man. Turns out a smoldering fire is much more dangerous than he’d initially thought. Louis is by far one of the most important people in his life and although their relationship is an uncanny one, he wouldn’t change any part of it. He has the feeling Louis wouldn’t either.

”Thank you,” Louis’ voice breaks the train of Harry’s thoughts abruptly.

”For what?”

The older shrugs as he throws away the butt of his Marlboro. He turns to face Harry, his blue eyes deeper today than usually. It does things to Harry. ”For being there, I think. Not just for the past week, but all this time. You’re, well, important to me.”

Harry smiles at him, nodding. ”I’m glad if I can be of help.”

The door to the terrace opens and Jay steps outside. ”Hi boys.”

”Mum. Why are you outside without a blanket? You’ll get sick,” Louis worries, his brows knitting together.

”The only spare one is upstairs, somewhere in Lottie’s closet. I thought I’d just catch some air, I don’t need it,” Jay assures, but Louis insists on going to get it.

”Will you be okay with my mum if I go grab it?” Louis asks Harry while he wraps his own blanket around Jay.

”Of course.”

Louis disappears inside and Jay takes his place. She seems tired and Harry knows she’s sick somehow, so he assumes it must be that. It’s easy to tell Jay’s been beautiful for her whole life, even though the signs of aging can be seen on her face now. She looks a lot like Louis.

”Did you know Louis inherited the company from his father?” Johannah asks, her eyes directed up at the sky, as if she’s trying to reach the said man.

”He mentioned it, yeah,” Harry nods.

Johannah hums, closing her eyes for a second. ”He was a handsome man. His jawline was to kill for and his eyes so piercing blue I’d never seen anything alike. He was also a demanding man. A perfectionist. And old fashioned on top of that. A lot like Louis, in a sense. Except Louis doesn’t hate everything and everyone that doesn’t please him, of course,” the woman laughs lowly.

”Was he good? To Louis?” Harry asks carefully, his voice unnaturally quiet to his own ears and his eyes trained on Jay.

”He never hurt him, if that’s what you’re wondering about,” Jay says, her voice stable. ”But he didn’t let him get off easy, either.”

Harry pulls his knees up on the bench, closer to his chest. He kind of hates to admit how much he wants to know what made Louis the man he is today, the good and the bad, but he really does. ”What do you mean?”

Jay finally turns to look at Harry, her smile barely there. ”Louis was his only child and ever since Louis was small he learned that he needed to be perfect, to match up to his father’s expectations. Louis learned to strive to excel, no matter what it was he was doing. He admired his father, wanted to make him proud. Taking over the company was just one of the attempts to please Troy. Louis never really wanted it, I could tell.”

Harry wants to ask if the marriage was one of the attempts too, but he feels that would be crossing a line, so he doesn’t. He just stays silent and waits for Jay to go on.

”He admired him so, so much. For the better part of Louis’ university career I was afraid he would turn out like Troy, whom I had divorced years and years before. The man was cold and calculative for most part and I didn’t want Louis to be like that,” Jay admits, her eyes sad. ”I was so relieved when I realised Louis was not his father. He was the most caring boy I had ever met. The most compassionate one, too.”

Harry smiles down at his hands and nods. ”He truly is. Sometimes I think that he, like, thinks less of himself and it bothers me a lot, if I’m honest.”

Jay smiles too, saying she knows what Harry means. ”It’s frustrating isn’t it? That he can’t see how good he is, what he deserves.”

”It is,” Harry laughs silently. ”It’s my intention to show him, though.”

Jay tilts her head, curiosity clear in her eyes. She seems to be studying Harry, and though it makes Harry a bit embarrassed, he’s willing to let her see him, everything there is to see in him. He trusts Louis and Louis trusts his mother the same way Harry trusts his own.

”You can do that, I think,” Jay eventually says. ”I think you’ve got what it takes to show him.”

Jay’s words mean a lot to Harry, and he tells her as much. Louis had appeared out of nowhere in to Harry’s life, bringing so many emotions, experiences and stories with him, and Harry doesn’t think Louis will ever understand how much he’s affected him. After he’d broken up with Nick, he was standing on nothing, forced to start anew. He had to built his self-image from scratch, starting from his self-confidence.

Louis had seemed so out of the place in that plane. He was clearly baffled by Harry’s appearance, taken by surprise with everything, not that Harry could understand why. His eyes had been so big and blue that Harry couldn’t just leave it at there, even though he could easily tell that Louis wasn’t anywhere near his own age and that if anything would ever come out of their conversations, it would be unconventional to say the least.

What had surprised Harry the most, when talking to Louis later on, was how little he thought of himself. To Harry, Louis appeared as a confident, witty and handsome father of one child with a successful company and a big house to go with all of that. It seemed silly that the man was constantly belittling himself. After hearing what Jay had to say, he thinks he understands more of Louis’ inner life.

”There’s a reason I’m telling you all this,” the woman admits, her voice quiet as she glances at Harry, ”I don’t go around talking about my son’s life just to anyone, y’know. But you're important to him.”

The younger offers her a smile, nodding. ”What is it?” He has to lower his legs again, his thighs aching with from the strain.

Jay takes a deep breath, making a noise of displeasure or something alike. ”I’m sure you’re aware Louis’ been struggling with himself lately, his identity. It worries me.”

Harry’s eyes land on his own hands, his slender fingers fiddling with the rings on them. ”Yeah, I know. I’m a bit worried, too.”

”Louis’ a strong person, but he can be very fragile if put under the right amount of pressure,” Jay’s voice is soft and Harry can feel it in her words, the extent she feels for her son, ”As much I’d like to be here forever to guard him, to help him get up when he falls. Well.”

”I understand,” the man nods, licking at his lips, ”Is there something I can do, d’you think?”

The other shrugs, now eyeing Harry with interest. ”Nothing can be said for sure. I just feel like you care about him a lot and I hope you know that he cares about you, too. He can’t always show it, but he does.”

A small smile appears on the younger’s lips as he thinks back to the Louis that seemed so uncomfortable with the idea of even talking to Harry. His smile widens. ”I know. I don’t know everything about him, but I hope I will, one day.”

Jay offers him a kind smile and there’s something about her eyes that makes Harry feel like she’s gone through much more than he’ll ever be able to understand. Harry can see why Louis feels so close to his mother, can understand the bond between the two a little better. The woman leans back on the bench, humming silently.

”Tell me one more thing, Harry,” she says after a while.

”Anything.”

Jay’s eyes are searching for something on Harry’s face, but he can’t name the exact thing. He’s not sure why is it so important to him to impress this woman, but it is, and he feels nervous and fidgety under her gaze. ”It’s a bit personal, I apologise for that, but I think I can see that familiar flicker in your eyes, when I look close enough,” there’s a soft smile on her full lips, ”You wouldn’t be, by any chance, in love with my son?” her voice drifts at the end.

Harry could say the question throws him off balance, makes him feel flabbergasted but that would be a lie. Granted, he didn’t think Jay would ask this from him, not as straightforwardly as she has just now, but it was only a matter of time someone would bring this up. It’s a bit nerve wracking it happens to be Louis’ mother.

He turns his gaze away, a subtle self-degrading smile playing on his lips. ”It was kind of naive of me to think that a man my age could just be friends with someone Louis’ age. With someone with Louis’ experience, more like,” he admits quietly. ”He’s a lot more than what shows to the surface. I see people taking him for granted and I feel angry with them, because how can they not see what I see?”

Harry’s brows knit together, his lips pursing. ”In love with him? I don’t know about love. Louis once said something that stuck with me and I think it’s because I reckon it applies here, too.”

”Yeah?”

Harry nods. ”’It’s not a great love, but it’s _a_ love’. I think it’s a love I feel for him. Whether I’m in love with him or not, I can’t tell yet.”

Being this bold or daring, one could say - Harry’s never done that. Confessing something like this to Louis’ mother, when he hasn’t even told Louis, feels reckless and scary and he doesn’t know what to expect. What to do with himself. He _knows_ he shouldn’t be saying these things, Louis has a wife and a child, but at the same time he feels like Jay shouldn’t be asking this, either.

The woman stays silent for a moment longer and Harry can feel her study his face. ”I’m happy he met you. And I hope you’ll take care of him, however it turns out in the end.”

When Harry meets her gaze, she’s smiling and sincerity is written all over her face. She’s not angry, not disapproving. Jay’s voice is soft and honest. Harry thinks there’s something she’s not saying, but at the same time he feels she’s laying it all in front of Harry, everything’s there for him to see. He just can’t understand it all, not yet.

”I will.”

”Why does this sound like you’ve just promised to marry me mother?” Louis asks with his brows raised, as he closes the door behind him. ”I mean I know you have a thing for older _men_ but women, too?”

Jay laughs at that while Harry rolls his eyes, unable to fight off his smile, though. ”What took you so long?”

”Dottie needed my guidance on some serious game of Monopoly in there,” Louis explains and offers the blanket to his mother.

”Oh, you know what darling. I’ll just let you two catch up and go inside with the kids, yeah?”

Jay places the blanket in Louis’ hands and kisses him on the cheek on her way inside. ”We literally talk every day with him, mum. No need to go, seriously,” Louis shouts after her, but the woman is having none of it, disappearing in to the common room.

The older gives Harry a pointed look, shaking his head with amusement on his features. He sits down next to Harry again, placing the other blanket neatly next to him, between them. ”What did you guys talk about?”

The conversation between them isn’t something Harry feels he should be sharing with Louis, not because he doesn’t want to or because he’d want to hide things from Louis, but because it felt confidential, personal. ”She told me lots and lots of embarrassing childhood stories about you.”

”As if,” Louis snorts. ”Have you seen how many kids she has? She barely even remembers how I was when I was a kid.”

Harry furrows his brows, meeting Louis’ gaze. ”You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

Louis laughs out loud and shakes his head. ”Of course I don’t. I know my mum would never forget, not things like that.”

”I think she’s a lovely woman, by the way. Very honest and kind of exceptional,” Harry says, his voice fond even to his own ears. ”She loves you very much.”

”I love her very much, too,” Louis nods, more to himself than to Harry. ”Is it weird? That I do? I’m thirty-six now.”

”I’m not one to judge, to be honest. I’m a mama’s boy myself, so,” the younger admits, his shoulders rising to his ears as he tries to prevent the cold from getting underneath his collar.

The silence around them is calming. The whole situation feels surreal to Harry, like he’d never ever guessed this is where he’d be if someone had told him about it a year ago. Or even six months ago.

Harry wants to ask all kinds of questions, about Louis’ father and his childhood. About how Louis feels about all of this, Harry being here in his home on his birthday, only a day away from Christmas. He feels like he knows a lot more about Louis from seeing how he acts with his family, feels like he wants to see so much more of that side of Louis.

For Harry it has been kind of clear from the moment he’d first ran into Louis in Liverpool that they don’t really have the traditional kind of friendship. He had sensed that Louis felt out of place forming a friendship like this to begin with and Harry could relate to that. So he’d gone with the flow, naturally avoided telling people much about Louis. Gemma had pried it out of him some months back, though, and as the tattletale she is, had told their mother too and now it’s out there, their relationship.

For everyone to see.

Ed had told Harry he liked Louis, said Louis seemed like an alright guy. Harry hadn’t been able to say anything, only stared at him blankly. He wanted people to see Louis as he had seen the man since day one. Wanted them to notice how Louis’ eyes crinkle when he laughs, how he often wipes his lips with the back of his hand and how his stubble tends to be a little uneven, because Louis shaves in a hurry. None of those things Ed had pointed out.

Harry had felt stupid.

He can’t help noticing the little things, the things that make up the Louis he knows. In fact, Harry has realised all he wants is to piece up Louis in his head, using these little bits and pieces and then he wants to ask the man if he does the same with Harry.

”This place reminds me a lot of the one I grew up in. It’s bigger, of course,” Louis says, pointing at the back yard carelessly.

”Where did you grow up?”

”Doncaster. Can’t believe I haven’t told you,” Louis smiles to himself, obviously associating some fond memories to the place. ”I loved it there.”

”Why’d you move then?” Harry inquires.

Something unfamiliar to the younger flashes through Louis’ eyes before he answers, while fiddling with his fingers. ”My parents had gotten a divorce some years back and me father wanted to see more of me so we moved closer to London where he lived.”

”How old were you when you moved? Was it difficult?”

Louis shrugs, seemingly thinking back to the time. ”I had to leave my friends behind, but I was already fourteen so I was going to college in couple of years. Me and my best mate Stan decided we’d apply to the same one. It made things easier. And I was a social one, either way. Got lots of new friends.”

Harry nods, smiling a little. He considers himself lucky to be hearing all this from Louis himself. They’ve gone through a huge part of Harry’s life already, mostly because Louis has shown such a keen interest in it and Harry finds it hard to resist telling every single detail, just to see Louis laugh, whether it is at him or with him.

”Why do I sense you weren’t all that happy about it, then?”

Louis mutters something Harry doesn’t quite catch, so he asks. ”Intuitive. You are,” Louis smiles at him. ”You’re right. I often wonder if I had been happier in Donny. My father, he. Well,” Louis looks away again, his voice uncertain and fumbling. ”He wasn’t exactly supportive of me. I always felt like I needed to be the best, at everything. Just to show him I could. If we’d have lived further away, maybe he wouldn’t have had such a strong hold of me.”

The smaller one faces forward, rubbing his hands together to keep warm. ”Maybe I wouldn’t be working at the company. Wouldn’t be married to El now, either.”

For some reason it feels like a punch to Harry’s stomach, even though Louis’ barely affected by it. The older’s demeanor tells Harry he’s been through this before, he’s thought about the what ifs and could’ve beens. Probably even deemed them meaningless. Harry most likely would have.

”Do you regret those things?” He asks carefully, like threading a needle.

Louis takes a moment, crossing his hands. ”I regret listening to my father so much. If you’re asking do I regret marrying Eleanor – sometimes. Day by day I feel more like this isn’t the life I’m supposed to be living and automatically start reflecting on the choices I made when I was younger.”

”You talk like you’ve made a decision?”

”I haven’t,” Louis shakes his head slowly, bites down on his lower lip, ”I haven’t.”

Louis seems to be lost in his mind and he looks like a painting again. Harry wants to take a picture this time, frame it to remind himself that there’s true beauty in the world. Beauty that isn’t aware of its beauty.

Harry doesn’t dare to say anything more, just leans back on the bench and enjoys the moment given to him. Who knows how many of these he’ll get to have. Who knows.

–

_[Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars](https://open.spotify.com/track/0x6Y6ikSyS17NxfhWsgENm) _

Harry absolutely despises this part. Not only because it’s absolutely horrible saying goodbye to Louis, but also because it scares the shit out of him how much it actually hurts. How willing he’d be to throw all of his plans away just to stay for another hour or two. He hates how familiar this moment feels, yet how it still hasn’t gotten any easier – in fact, it seems to leave Harry feeling worse every single time. Louis is standing in front of him, small and soft, wrapped up in a big, grey hoodie. Harry thinks the man doesn’t look a day older than twenty-two.

”You sure you can’t stay for the night?” Louis bats his eyelashes at Harry, his palms together, pleading.

Even though it erupts a laugh out of Harry, it doesn’t change the fact that he’d promised his mum he’d be home tonight, in Cheshire. ”I wish I could.”

”You’re no fun, Styles,” Louis huffs, kicking the nonexistent dirt on the ground. ”I’ve just turned thirty-six. Do you even know how much I crave for younger company at the moment?”

Harry raises his brows, amused. ”So this again. I’m seriously starting to think I’m just an equivalent to that Ferrari.”

Louis laughs at that, his eyes crinkling in to crescents and bringing out Harry’s dimples as well. ”I might need to buy one, just to show you you’re not even close to that,” the older jokes, but lets his full-on grin fall into a smaller, more subtle smile. ”Don’t think it’d be this bloody hard to say goodbye to a car every time.”

Where as the words warm Harry’s heart a lot, they also feel like needles on his skin. It’s oddly painful to know they both find these situations so hard, uncomfortable even. For Harry it’s mostly because he wants to tell Louis how much he actually hates this, how much he’d like to just gather his things and maybe move in to Louis’ basement if the man would allow him to. He could never say those things, though. _He never would._

”I wish it wasn’t this hard,” Harry admits, biting down on his lower lip.

Louis keeps his gaze locked on his shoes, drawing meaningless patterns on the asphalt. ”I don’t,” he mumbles. ”I mean, I don’t like it. But at the same time, doesn’t feeling so bloody awful in these situations mean that we actually care for each other?”

That makes Harry smile, shyly. ”Yeah, I guess it does.”

”I _do_ wish it’d feel a little less like you’re ripping out one of me limbs, but it is what it is, I guess,” Louis sighs exaggeratedly, adorably rocking on his feet.

”Hey,” Harry says, pointing at Louis’ chest, ”That’s one of your tattoos, isn’t it?”

The older follows the line of Harry’s finger before he nods, tapping his chest lightly. ”It sure is. The only thing I stand by, day after day, no matter how I’m feeling.”

Somehow the thought is comforting. The thought of knowing there are certain things Louis nor Harry have control over, things that happen without them noticing. It feels like being given a hall pass on life, kind of. You make mistakes, life gets hard or you just don’t know what to do, but that’s okay because it is what it is, nonetheless.

”I like it,” Harry nods, more to himself than to Louis. ”Applies here quite well, too.”

Louis shrugs, his hand now clinging to Harry’s wrist, the grip light. His gaze is firmly locked on the spot where their skin is touching. ”Still, they’re just words.”

Harry’s not sure which feels worse: the way he’s feeling about all this or the way Louis looks, his fringe falling in front of his eyes and his shoulders slouching. Harry wonders when will it get easier. Will it ever.

”We’re bloody ridiculous, Lou.”

”I’m aware.”

The silence comes again, surrounding them like a heavy blanket. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s filled with distant noises that make Harry feel restless, like he just wants to rip off the damn bandage and run, preferably not looking back. Too bad a man can’t run from a feeling.

Louis’ grip tightens around his wrist, as if on cue, and the man lifts his gaze to meet Harry’s eyes. ”You need to go see your family. I need to go spend time with my daughter. And even though I’m holding on to you, you need to go.”

Harry smiles lopsidedly and offers his free hand to Louis. The other takes it without hesitation and so Harry pulls him in for a hug. Louis smells like vanilla, a hint of his cologne he’d probably sprayed on the day before and something Harry can’t put his finger on, but what feels like properly captures the essence of this small man in his arms. It’s easy to get lost in these moments. Easy to drown his face in Louis’ hair, let his hands wrap around his small waist and back, and so easy to just let Louis pinch his sides to take away some of the melancholy. So easy to forget where they are, but never who they are.

”Maybe one day it won’t feel this bad,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ shoulder.

”Bullshit.”

Witty, effective and makes Harry smile. _Louis._

”Fine,” the younger concedes. ”Maybe one day I’ll get to stay.” _And never leave again_.

Harry wonders if Louis can hear his silent thoughts, wonders if he feels the same.

”I hope.”

They stand like that for another minute or two, until Louis pulls away, his eyes just the tiniest bit watery. Harry snorts as the man makes a show out of wiping them dry. ”Don’t laugh, you’re no better.”

And indeed, Harry’s eyes are moist too, his feelings trying to pour out of them, with little success. He wipes the unshed tears away and lets out a small laugh. ”Never, ever tell Zayn or Ed about this. We’ll never live it down.”

Louis huffs, grinning lazily. ”I think I’d be killed for whole other reasons,” he mutters before giving his cheek a light slap. ”Alright. You’ve got to leave before I start clinging to you like a fucking koala bear.”

The younger giggles and pats the top of Louis’ head. ”I wouldn’t mind that.”

”I would,” Louis moans, playfully pushing Harry towards his mom’s car he’d borrowed. ”Go before I actually do it.”

Harry knows Louis’ just trying to end the day with a high note, but it’s apparent in his eyes how he’s not okay with this. Harry isn’t either, but he complies, just for Louis’ sake. It’s the man’s birthday after all.

”I’ll go,” he lifts his hands and offers Louis a small smile. ”Just call me later?”

Louis’ lips quirk up as he clearly recognises the pattern, remembers the words. ” _Definitely_.”

 

– **January 2nd, Sunday**

Coming home, leaving behind the whole family for the exception of Abbie hadn’t come easy to Louis. Eleanor had of course spent New Year’s Eve at her parents’ house and Abigail had joined her, leaving Louis with his siblings, mother and Dan. Lottie’s boyfriend had made an appearance, too, and the older had made a new friend out of him.

All in all, Louis had been relaxed, well-rested and content in his own little bubble of the people he loves. He only came back yesterday and the tension in the house was so obvious he’d almost turned around at the door. The whole house was so quiet without the kids’ noises, so big for just the three of them. Eleanor had made dinner for all of them, even attempted to strike up a conversation, but Louis wasn’t in the mood for it, just responded when he absolutely had to. Abbie hadn’t enjoyed it, either, and asked to be excused early. Louis allowed her to go, despite his wife’s silent protests and that was that.

The house feels emptier and bigger than ever. Louis wants to get out, not only because he knows he’ll have to talk with his wife about what had happened, but also because he feels like he’s not ready to face the reality of all this, his life, quite yet. He still worries about Abbie. He can’t shake the fear that if he leaves now, it’ll have a major effect on the girl. Louis knows he shouldn’t ask the girl’s opinion, because him and Eleanor are the adults in this house, it’s their relationship and the decision is theirs, he _knows_ this, but he still hopes he could ask Abbie.

”Louis?” Eleanor’s voice calls from the kitchen, then, forcing the man to get up from the couch.

He wonders what might be the problem this time, as he makes his way to her. She’s sat around the kitchen isle, the table scattered with papers and documents – work, Louis assumes. ”I’m going back to work tomorrow and I’m trying to catch up a little. Could you possibly take Abbie out to eat today? I don’t think I’ll be able to cook for you two.”

”Sure,” Louis nods, already turning on his heels, ready to leave the kitchen, to leave the looming conversation.

”And Louis?” He shuts his eyes, knowing full-well what’s about to come. ”We’re going to have to talk about it one of these days. The sooner the better, right?”

Louis doesn’t turn around, doesn’t want to show how much he dreads that conversation. How much he’d just like to swipe it all under the rug and go back to how things were. ”Yeah. But not today.”

With that he finally steps out of the room, leaving the woman and her work alone and climbs up the stairs to Abbie’s room. He needs to get out of the house, why not ask his daughter if there’s something she’d like to do. Louis knocks on the door and waits until he hears the girl call him in.

He peeks inside, before stepping further, an old habit he’d picked up from his mother. ”Hey, bub.”

”Hey,” Abbie seems surprised to see Louis standing there, so much she discards the laptop she’s holding. ”Something wrong?”

”No, no,” Louis shakes his head and notices he’s still clinging to the door. He lets go of it, before clearing his throat. ”Your mother is working so she doesn’t have the time to cook today. So, I was thinking is there anything you’d like to do, since you and I are going out to eat anyways?”

Abbie seemingly relaxes, her shoulders less tense and her lips turning into a smile. ”Well, there _is_ one thing I’ve wanted to do for a week or so now,” the girl grins, getting up from the bed and rummaging through her back-bag, only to pull out a CD, one that Louis got for her for Christmas present. (Though he’d later learned that it’s a bit old-fashioned to get someone a CD in the first place at this day and age). ”I’ve been dying to listen to this in a car. Gives good vibes, I bet on it.”

Louis raises his brows. ”So, we’re just going to drive around London, aimlessly, so you can listen to your CD?”

Abbie shrugs and holds the CD to her chest. ”We could always drive up to Doncaster, to see nana and grandpa?”

”I don’t think we can surprise them like that, I’m afraid. The nursing home has visiting hours and days,” Louis shakes his head, trying to think of anyone else they could go see, on such a short notice.

He kind of hates his brain for only coming up with one name, even though there’s probably plenty of other people that would love to see them, especially Abbie, since they really don’t get to visit many of their relatives very often. ”How about Harry?”

Abbie’s eyebrows shoot up and she blinks, surprised. Louis rushes to continue. ”I mean, we can go somewhere else, of course, but Liverpool isn’t too far away. It’s still early, I think we could go for a few hours.”

The girl ponders for a while, clearly looking for something on Louis’ face, but the man’s unable to identify the expression she has. It sort of bothers him that he can’t. After a few seconds she nods. ”I don’t mind going there. I kinda liked him.”

Relief washes over Louis as he fishes his phone from his jeans’ pocket. ”Get ready, then. I’ll give H a call.”

He leaves Abbie to change and selects Harry’s number from his phone. He pauses for a short moment before pressing call, clutching the phone in his hand. It hasn’t been two weeks since they last saw, but Louis has been missing Harry like crazy. He’d toned down on the FaceTiming, just so that Harry could enjoy the company of his family and friends for the holidays, thinking it’s only polite.

They’d called on the evening of 25th, an emotional call, too, because both had felt so lucky and blessed to have such great families around them. Few texts were exchanged nearly every day, but the next time Louis had dialled Harry’s number was on the 31st, five minutes before midnight. The younger had been wearing a self-knitted, green beanie and his cheeks had been flushed from the cold. Louis even got a peek of Harry’s sister and mother, both wrapped in thick jackets and blankets, laughing at something Harry’s stepfather had said. They were setting up for the fireworks, just as Louis’ family.

”You’re a cheesy bastard, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry had said when he’d picked up, smile so big on his lips Louis swears he’s never seen anything like it.

They’d held the call past midnight, both wishing each other a happy new year, Harry moaning about not having anyone to kiss. His mother had planted a moist kiss to his cheek, just a second later and Louis had felt incredibly happy.

Right now, though, he’s feeling a bit nervous. What will Harry think if he’ll call, asking for such a thing? Will he think Louis’ being too clingy, ridiculous even? The older holds the phone for a second longer, before he wipes his mind clear and taps the screen.

It rings twice, then once more, before Harry’s low drawl can be heard. ”Hullo?”

”Were you asleep?” Louis asks, his tone amused.

Incoherent muttering can be heard from the other side of the phone, presumably Harry trying to lift his face from the pillow. Louis wants to laugh. ”Well, it’s, like, 8.30 on a Sunday. What’d you expect?”

”Were you out last night? Do I sense a hangover?” Louis teases, leaning against the wall outside Abbie’s room.

Harry laughs, but it’s sarcastic. ”I’m glad you’re having fun with it.”

”So were you?”

”There might’ve been a party, yes. Full of people from my courses. Thought I’d establish some friendships,” the younger yawns.

Louis smiles to himself, picturing a drunk Harry dancing on a table, yelling ’ _shots all around_ ’ as the tequila spills on the people below him. Definitely happened. ”Well, I’m sorry to wake you up so early.”

”It’s okay. Why’d you call?” Harry inquires, sounding a little more awake.

”Abbie and I are going on a road trip today. Thought we’d drop by in Liverpool, if you’re up for it?”

The delight in Harry’s voice is evident when he speaks. ”Really? Yeah, of course. Isn’t it like a three hour drive though?”

”It’s a road trip, H. It’s meant to take some time,” Louis rolls his eyes, still smiling. ”My ears are probably going to bleed by the time we’re there, seeing as Abbie wants to listen to one of the CDs I got for her.”

Harry laughs and the older can hear water running in the background. ”I’m sure you’ll survive. Is there something you’d like me to prepare for us? Like a tour around the city or?”

”If you could cook, that’d be really amazing?” Louis suggests, biting down on his lower lip. He knows Harry enjoys cooking and quite frankly he’s wanted to have a taste ever since Harry had sent a picture of his famous quesadillas.

”Yeah, definitely. Oh, I’m actually getting excited about this now,” the younger says, his tone giddy. ”I’ll just jump in the shower and start preparing then. Text me when you’re closer to my place. I’ll send you the address.”

Louis nods, even though Harry can’t see it. ”Sure. And thanks, Harry.”

”No problem. I’m happy to see you. Both.”

–

Half an hour later, Louis and Abbie are leaving the house behind, Abbie beyond excited to put his CD on, Louis beyond excited to see Harry. Eleanor hadn’t been overjoyed about their plans, of course, but after Abbie had stated that this was actually her idea, she’d caved rather easily, though the look she’d given Louis wasn’t what you’d call friendly.

Louis can definitely feel himself relaxing as soon as he’s managed to weave their way through the worst city traffic, on to the highway. Abbie’s singing along to the band that’s blaring through the speakers, her head bobbing in time with the beat. Even though Louis doesn’t recognise the band, he doesn’t hate their music. Not something he’d pick himself, but he thinks he can manage a couple of hours of this.

For the better part of the drive Louis gets to sort out his brain, plan a little bit of his next week, where work will take him and whether he’ll like it or not. He tries to push away the bad news he’d gotten from his mother right before he’d come home, but at the same time wonders if he should tell Harry, if it’d maybe make him feel better. There’s this thought nagging at Louis’ brain, though, a fear he’d be burdening the younger if he opened his mouth. And anyways, the news isn’t something he wants to think about right now.

Abbie seems happy, which lifts Louis’ mood, obviously. He’d thoroughly enjoyed their time together during the holidays, and he’d told Abbie as much. Even though the girl is in her prime teenage years, she’d hugged Louis and admitted that she loved it, too. Louis had taken Abbie out for a day, just the two of them, and by the request of his daughter, they’d gone shopping. Not for Abbie, but for Louis.

”You always wear the same clothes. We gotta update your wardrobe, dad,” she’d said with determination.

Much to Abbie’s surprise, Louis had been able to pick rather good-looking clothes by himself as well, and Louis had faked outrage, asked her how old she thinks her father is, exactly. Later when they’d gone for a dinner, Louis had explained how he actually likes shopping for clothes, he just never has the time. They’d bonded over style and for the first time in so long, Louis could see the appreciative look in his daughter’s eyes. Louis had never been one of those fathers who had hoped for a boy, so he could teach him footie and take him to Manchester United’s games. He’d done all that with Abbie, but it was inevitable that as the girl grew older, her interests had shifted towards things Louis didn’t know that much about. He tries to keep up, but sometimes it gets difficult with all his time spent away. So it’s nice to have something in common again.

Either way, the time at Louis’ mother’s house had wiped away most of the fear of not being around enough. Over the course of the past fifteen years Louis has had his fair share of guilty feelings and worrying of how Abbie will feel about him when she’ll be older, if he’s never around. Seems like he’s doing alright, though.

After they continue their journey towards Liverpool, having made a pit stop so Abbie could use the restroom and buy some soda for herself, she doesn’t crank up the CD-player as loud, just turns to look at Louis. ”Is something wrong?” the older gives a glance in her direction.

”No,” Abbie shakes her head. ”I’m just curious.”

”About?”

His daughter shrugs, playing with the cap of the bottle idly, her eyes directed somewhere past Louis, before they focus again. ”How do you feel about Harry?”

The question shouldn’t surprise Louis. It _shouldn’t_ but it does, nonetheless. Abbie is a curious person, much like Louis and Jay, and was bound to ask about this at some point. She’d seemed so surprised when Louis had suggested they’d go to Liverpool, Louis should’ve been surprised she didn’t ask this right then and there.

”Why do you ask?”

Abbie doesn’t reply for a while, as if thinking how to phrase her words. She takes a sip from the soda and smacks her lips the way Louis hates, before answering. ”You two seemed so close when he visited us on your birthday. I guess I was just surprised by that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hug anyone like that before. Think uncle Liam’s lucky if he gets a one-armed hug on his birthday,” the girl mumbles.

Louis pokes at her arm lightly with his elbow. ”Oh, c’mon. I do hug my friends. Other friends.”

Abbie just rolls her eyes and then prompts Louis to answer the original question. Louis thinks about his words for a while, not really being able to put his relationship with Harry in to words. He’s never had to try before, really.

”Did you not like him then?”

 Abbie groans, hiding her eyes behind her hand. ”I never said that, dad. I _do_ like him, he seemed like a really nice guy. That is not why I’m asking.”

”Alright, alright,” Louis laughs, holding his other hand up. ”Fine. It’s just, kind of difficult to say how I _feel_ about him. Like, I  _like_ him, obviously? Can you specify a little?”

The girl huffs, but nods, eventually. ”What does he mean to you? Is he, like, the same as uncle Liam, for example? Or uncle Zayn? You’re close with them, too.”

Louis needs another moment to go over it in his head. He thinks about all the times he’s wished Harry was there with him or the times he’s grabbed his phone at the most random moments to tell the most trivial thing about his day to the other. Then he wonders if it’s the same with Liam or Zayn.

”He’s not like the others, I can say as much,” Louis admits after a minute. ”He’s really important to me, clearly. Why? I’m not sure. I met the bloke on a plane and he had absolutely the most ridiculous things to say to a stranger. I was impressed, I guess.”

”That’s all? You admire him?” Abbie’s voice is dull, like she’d expected to hear more.

Louis shrugs, taking a turn to left, on to a smaller road. ”I can trust him with anything. We’ve not known each other for a very long time, but I feel like he knows me better than I do, at times.”

Abbie seems to be lost in her thoughts when Louis turns to look at her. She’s looking out of the window, her brown hair falling on to her shoulders, covering a part of her profile. The older feels like she’s not quite satisfied yet, like she’s still wrapping her head around it.

”He’s like a soulmate.”

The words make Abbie turn to look at Louis again, her brows high and lips pursed. ”A _soulmate_?”

Louis laughs at her, grinning. ”Don’t look so horrified. A soulmate isn’t necessarily a romantic one. Soulmate’s someone who makes you be a better person, the best version of yourself. You admire them, they inspire you. Usually works both ways, too.”

Abbie keeps staring at him, her lips slowly turning in to a bemused smile. ”Wow. You sure should start writing songs or maybe poetry. You’re a sap, dad.”

The older rolls his eyes and promises to give it some serious thought. ”Did my answer please you? Other than being a sappy one.”

Something flashes on Abbie’s features, a feeling, an expression perhaps, before her smile settles to a small one. ”Yeah, I think so.”

”Good. Half an hour and we’re there. Text Harry from my phone.”

–

”This should be it,” Louis says, nodding towards the block of flats on their left.

Harry truly hadn’t been kidding when he’d said Ed’s building was nothing compared to this one. Louis is fairly sure the whole thing will collapse any minute now. They make their way to the building anyway and Abbie presses the buzzer.

”Do you think he’ll mind me coming?” the girl asks, just as Harry buzzes them in.

”No, why would he? I told him you’re coming.”

The building doesn’t have an elevator, so they take the stairs. It amuses Louis to some extent that they have a buzzer, but an elevator seems to be too high-tech. ”Was it fourth floor?” Abbie asks. ”And I don’t know. We’re still pretty much strangers to each other.”

”Fourth, yes,” Louis nods, stuffing his hands into his black jeans’ pockets. ”With Harry it doesn’t really matter. I’ve never seen him dislike anyone.”

Abbie snorts. ”I’d be the first then.”

”You’re my daughter. He basically adores you already,” Louis grins as he takes the last two stairs at the same time. Abbie laughs, before ringing the bell on the door that reads ’ _Styles_ ’, the last ’s’ a little crooked.

They can hear Harry’s footsteps approaching through the door and Louis briefly wonders how thin the walls must be. The door opens, making a horrible creaking sound on its way. ”Hi and welcome. Also, sorry about that awful noise.”

Harry holds the door wider and the two of them step inside. ”Thanks for having us,” Louis says over his shoulder as he discards his jacket and hangs it on the rack. Abbie follows his example.

The apartment is tiny, about the size of a shoe box, Louis thinks. The walls are brittle and full of uneven darker blotches, but Harry’s done a pretty good job at trying to hide them behind framed pictures and paintings. Many of them Louis recognises from their FaceTime calls. Just as he’s about to comment on the furry rug him and Harry had joked about the other day, a cat crawls from underneath the bed.

”Dusty,” Louis squeals, embarrassingly so, before he squats down. ”Come ’ere, Duttie. Come on.”

The cat scurries to him, his head hung low and rough tongue licking out of his small mouth. Even though Louis’ never seen Dusty, the cat let’s him scratch him behind the ears and he purrs, pleased with the attention. The older doesn’t know how reserved cats usually are, but childishly he lets himself believe he’s special somehow.

”I didn’t know you liked cats, dad,” Abbie’s bemused voice comes from behind him. The girl crouches down next to Louis, offering her hand for the cat to smell. ”I always thought you’re more of a dog person.”

”Dusty’s the only cat I’ll ever like,” Louis coos, giving the kitten one more scratch under the jaw.

”I feel neglected, just so you know,” Harry says with amusement in his voice as he’s fussing around the stove.

Abbie keeps petting Dusty as Louis makes his way to Harry, peeking over his shoulder at the pans and kettles. ”What are we having?”

The dimple makes an appearance on Harry’s cheek as the younger leans back a little, so that he’s against Louis’ chest. ”Pasta carbonara. Hope you like it.”

”We love Italian,” Louis mumbles, taking a whiff of Harry, though he tells himself he’s smelling the food.

As Harry prepares the meal, Louis and Abbie offer to set the table. Dusty keeps following Louis around the small flat, erupting giggles out of Abbie, the girl joking about Dusty having found his long lost other dad. Harry keeps grinning at them from the stove and it all feels very domesticated. They chat about trivial stuff, like Harry’s studies and Louis’ latest trip to San Francisco and already Louis feels like he’d made the right decision coming here and bringing Abbie with him. Eventually Harry finishes with the food and they settle around his small, round table and tackle the dish.

”This is really good. You’re a good chef,” Abbie compliments as she takes another bite, slurping the spaghetti, making Harry laugh.

”I’m glad you like it.”

Louis isn’t sure what he expected of this, how he thought it’d go. It’s not like Harry and Abbie are total strangers, they’ve talked before, Louis has seen them get along with his own eyes. Still, it feels oddly warm to see the two chat away like they’d known each other forever. A thought flits through his head, a thought about Harry just clicking with every person he ever meets, as soon as he opens his mouth. Something he’s wondered about before, too, but always favored to push it in the back corners of his mind, just because he tends to feel a little less special whenever those thoughts surface.

”So you’re going to college next fall, correct?”

Abbie nods, a pleased smile appearing on her lips. Louis knows how much the girl enjoys it when people show interest in her life. It’s no wonder, having always been the shadow of Louis or Eleanor or her multiple relatives. ”I’m a bit nervous about it, to be honest.”

”I get it, it’s always nerve-wracking to start at a new school,” Harry offers her a comforting smile. ”Are Daisy and Phoebe going to the same college as you?”

”Yeah, are they?” Louis wonders, too.

The girl glances at Louis and suddenly seems a lot more nervous than before. If Louis didn’t know better he’d say she’s hiding something. He halts his eating and raises his brows. ”Well?”

”I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but I know you’ll say no,” Abbie rolls her eyes, poking the food around on her plate. The indifference is a familiar defense mechanism to Louis, he sees it whenever his daughter really wants something but has already given up on trying to reach it.

”You don’t know that,” Louis’ brows knit together as he leans closer to Abbie over the table. ”What do you have in mind?”

Harry seems to be interested in the conversation as well, but Louis can tell he’s contemplating whether he should be here for this or not. Abbie’s fiddling with her fork and spoon and biting on her lower lip. All this makes Louis nervous, too, so he prompts for her to go on.

The girl takes a deep breath and meets her father’s gaze. ”I don’t want to go to a sixth form college in London.”

A silence follows, Louis’ head is completely void of any thoughts at all for about two seconds, before his frown deepens. ”No? What do you mean? There’s plenty of good colleges in London, Abbie.”

”I know there is, I didn’t say any different,” she clanks the fork on the plate, still nervous. ”I just want to get out of the house, okay? See the world a bit. Or at least my own home country.”

Louis straightens up, not sure how to feel about the information. He’d always thought he’d get to keep his daughter close to home, seeing as they live in the capital of the country, there’s really not many better cities to choose. The knowledge that Abbie wants to live away from them pokes parts in Louis he didn’t even know existed.

Harry seems to notice Louis’ bafflement, as he speaks up. ”I think that’s a good idea. I mean, I went to a sixth from in Northwhich, which was pretty close to home and I kept wishing I could’ve chosen differently, but money was tight.”

”Yeah. I just want to be a little more independent, you know?” Abbie explains, turning to Louis again. ”I’ve been thinking about Cambridge, Bellerbys.”

The girl looks hopeful, full of determination and something Louis recognises he used to have in himself too, when he was younger. Call it being sentimental or whatever you want, but he thinks Abbie deserves to make her own choices regarding her future, even if those choices scare Louis.

”I don’t see why not. I’m happy to hear you have aspirations and dreams,” he smiles at the girl, whose demeanor changes drastically, a large smile splitting her face and light appearing in her eyes.

”So does this mean you’ll help me convince mum?”

Louis laughs at that, nods and promises to at least talk to her about it, even though he’s not sure whether he can or not be of help. ”She’s a tough cookie though. Might need some persuading.”

Abbie deems it possible, however, says she’s already started planning how to turn her head. ”I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again.”

Louis wants to tell the girl he’s going to help with that, but he’s not sure at all, not with the situation they’re in. He can feel the discomfort from hiding things from his daughter creeping up his neck, already straining his muscles.

The other man seems to pick up on this as he offers Louis a comforting look. ”What do you want to focus on, while in college?” Harry asks then, directing the conversation subtly back to education.

”I haven’t really decided. Something with history, maybe?” Abbie ponders over it, but only shrugs in the end. ”All I know for sure is that I want to join the choir. I hear they have a great one.”

Both Louis and Harry raise their brows at that, exchanging a look. ”I didn’t know you were a singer,” Louis points out, eating the last forkful of his pasta.

Abbie squints her eyes, not in a serious way, but more playfully. ”That’s because you’re so rarely home, dad. I can sing, alright. And actually, I think I get it from you.”

The girl is pointing at Louis with her spoon, which Louis scolds her for, and also tries to signal for her to shut up about his non-existent musical gifts. It’s too late, however, since Harry’s picked up on it already. ”You can sing?”

Louis offers the younger a sheepish smile, along with a nervous laugh. ”A bit, nothing much, really.”

Abbie snorts. ”Right. This is literally the only time I see him be this modest. Every time we talk about his voice, this happens. Don’t get it, at all.”

Harry purses his lips and slowly blinks, his brows raised. ”So, you _can_ sing.”

The older pinches the bridge of his nose, straining a forced smile. ”Thank you, Abigail. ”

”The real question is: why haven’t I heard it?” Harry’s resting his jaw on his palm now, his gaze all but intense on Louis, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

”I sound like a baby seal dying, wouldn’t want to torture your sensitive ears with that, Harold.”

Harry moves closer to Louis, his eyes big, green and bright. ”I don’t believe you.” He mock whispers in the older’s face, making Abbie laugh on the other side of the table.

Louis takes a deep breath and sighs. He knows he can’t escape it. He knows Harry will pester him until the day of his funeral if he refuses to sing for him. His friend’s irrationally pretty face doesn’t really help the case, either. Louis kind of wants to ground his daughter for a month, for her big mouth and he signals this with an unimpressed glance to her. He’s sure she knows it anyways, though.

”Fine, I took a couple lessons when younger,” he shrugs, attempting to end the conversation there, to escape once more.

”So sing for us,” Harry chirps, already getting up from the table and collecting their empty plates and glasses. ”I’ll do the dishes and Abbie can play with Dusty. No one will even look at you.”

As grateful as Louis is for this act of kindness, he dreads opening his mouth to sing a single note. He’s never been confident about singing, it was a hobby when he was younger. What comes to having private concerts in empty cars or showers, Louis is basically a pop star, in his opinion. Singing to an audience, whether it’s a big or a small one, he doesn’t really care for that. He likes to sing Christmas carols with the family, but that’s about it. Besides, Harry’s own voice is magnificent, Louis’ heard it enough times to know.

”Do I have to?” he whines from where he’s sitting around the table.

Abbie grins at him, nodding vigorously as she pets the cat on the floor. Louis searches for Harry’s eyes, who turns around, leaving the dishes for a small moment. He gives Louis a look that’s a mix of pleading, persuading and something that leaves no room for Louis to argue, really.

He groans, rubbing at his temples. ”What do I even sing?”

”I don’t understand why this is such a big deal for you. You’re good,” Abbie shakes her head, but suggests Louis sings one of the old tunes he’s never stopped listening to.

After a while of miserable self-beating and debating, Louis decides to go for Bowie’s _Life on Mars?_ It’s the song he’s last listened to and it’s the only one he remembers all the lyrics to right now.

_[David Bowie - Life On Mars?](https://open.spotify.com/track/3ZE3wv8V3w2T2f7nOCjV0N) _

He starts out softly, a bit unsteadily. Finding his voice turns out to be quite a task, his vocal chords protesting the nervousness. His hands are splayed on the table, the wood underneath his fingers grounding, cool. Louis lets his eyelids fall shut, tries to form the words carefully and smothers the bubbling, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

The man hopes that Abbie and Harry aren’t looking, prays actually. His throat vibrates with the words, his lips pull into the smallest smile around _he’s in the best selling show,_ something funny floating inside him, then. The song flows out of him easier, second by second his voice gets stronger as his fingers tap the table softy in rhythm of the song. Higher bits take a little more effort, Louis’ eyes closing tighter, the veins in his neck showing more clearly, sending pleasant shocks of electricity down his spine.

He doesn’t sing the whole song, even though he manages to even enjoy it a little. Louis let’s his voice fade away, ends with a silence as he’s been taught to do, before coughing a little. His eyes open slowly, afraid to see what’s in front of them. ”There, that’s about it,” he says nervously, crossing his hands, avoiding looking at the two.

”Bowie was a good choice,” Harry’s clearly delighted voice points out first as the man makes his way to Louis, patting him on the shoulder. ”You’ve got a beautiful voice, Lou.”

It bothers Louis, probably too much, to notice he’s blushing at the compliment. He feels like he’s exposed now more than just a minute ago, while singing. Abbie shows him a thumbs up, before going back to cooing at Dusty. The moment seems to pass rather effortlessly as Harry goes back to doing the dishes, not waiting for Louis’ response.

The knot inside the older eases, his shoulders relaxing enough for the air to flow freely out of him. ”I’m afraid I don’t have any dessert for us,” Harry says as he dries up a plate.

”Awh, man,” Louis clicks his tongue. ”I really wanted some chocolate ice cream just about now.”

Harry grins at him, dimples coming out. ”I’m sorry, I don’t possess any sort of magical abilities, can’t really make it appear.”

Louis sighs, pretending to be highly disappointed in his friend. ”Is there a store close by?” Abbie asks then, getting up from the floor, even though Dusty meows after her.

”There’s a small store a few blocks away, yeah,” Harry nods, picking up the last plate. ”Why?”

”I could go get us some,” she shrugs. ”The weather’s nice, I could use some fresh air before we head back to London.”

Louis thinks it’s a good idea, so he pulls out his wallet and gives the girl a twenty. ”You can do what you want with the rest of it. Maybe bring back some soda, too.”

”Got it. Which way do I go once I’m outside, Harry?” Abbie pulls on her jacket and sneakers, waiting for Harry’s directions.

”I’ll draw you a map real quick.”

Harry scribbles something on a paper, explaining it at the same time to Abbie, while Louis decides to check his messages. He’s got one from Liam, asking if Louis is free today. He replies with a ’ _no, with Abbie_ ’ and gets a smiley face back from his best friend right away. It warms the older’s heart and makes him smile at his daughter, laughing at the other man’s attempt at a map.

”That should do it. If you get lost just call me and I’ll help,” Harry smiles, giving the DIY map to the girl.

”I’m sure I’ll be fine. See you in a mo.”

”Never ever say that again,” Louis calls out after her, just before the door slams shut, shaking the whole flat, Louis is fairly sure.

The silence that follows is deafening. Louis has no idea why it feels different from the others they’ve had, but it does. Maybe it’s because they’re at Harry’s place instead of a public place or a hotel. It feels more personal, more _something._

”Do you need help with cleaning the kitchen?” Louis asks, his voice unnaturally loud in the small space.

Harry shakes his head. ”You look stressed out again. Let’s just relax for a bit before you have to drive back, yeah?”

They end up on the couch, Louis’ head on Harry’s lap. The younger combs through his locks and they talk about Harry’s teaching jobs and studies that kick off again the next day. Louis tells Harry he’ll be in Hong Kong for a few days on from Tuesday and then him and Liam will fly to Sydney from there.

”So you’ll be back after a week or so?”

Louis nods. ”Next Monday, I think.”

Harry smiles down at him, his dimples coming out again. ”I just have to make do then. There won’t be much calling with that time difference, will there.”

Louis has learned to hate international business trips by now, especially those out of Europe. The further away the country, the more likely he won’t be able to talk with Harry, besides a text here and there. It’s always a disappointment of sorts, whenever Louis realises he’s going for one of those longer trips.

”I meant to tell you, by the way, that you handled the whole Abbie thing really well,” Harry compliments, his eyes warm and knowing.

Louis turns his gaze away, a subtle smile playing on his thin lips. ”What else could I have said? All I could think about was how grateful I’d been if my father had given me the chance to choose.” He plays with the threads on Harry’s ripped jeans, even though the position is quite uncomfortable for his arm.

”You did the right thing, either way,” Harry assures, his hand weaving through Louis’ casual fringe, massaging his scalp carefully. ”How are things at home? I noticed you went silent when Abbie brought up her mum.”

Louis sighs deeply and lets his arm fall over his eyes. ”It’s unfixable, Harry. I can’t make it go back to how it was, not anymore.”

Harry’s hand’s movement doesn’t stop, he just hums lowly, prompting Louis to keep talking. ”It’s not a home anymore. Not the place I want to go to at the end of the day. She said things.”

The younger lifts Louis’ arm away from his eyes. ”Can you forgive her?”

”I already have, I think,” Louis meets Harry’s gaze.

”Then what’s the issue?”

Louis’ brows knit together, his forehead creases. ”I, I can’t _forget_. I don’t want to, 's the thing. I feel better some place else than when I’m with her. Isn’t that enough?”

It’s a small change in Harry’s expression, so slight that not many would notice it. His eyes widen the tiniest bit, but just for a second, his lips part enough for air to get in, but it’s replaced by a subtle smile, too quickly. The older sees it all, though, and he isn’t sure what to make of it.

”If you’re not happy, that’s a reason enough.”

Louis nods. ”I’ve figured as much.”

Harry’s hand comes to rest on top of Louis’ chest as he searches something from Louis’ eyes. The older wants to look away, but it’s not something one just does when trapped in the green emeralds that belong to Harry. But Louis can’t look at the other without letting his thoughts drift to things he doesn’t want to think about, isn’t ready to think about.

”Is there something else bothering you though? You seem, I don’t know, off.”

Once again Louis thinks Harry is so intuitive, it’s remarkable.Or maybe he just knows Louis, maybe that’s more likely. He wasn’t planning on bringing his worries up, wasn’t planning on opening up about this today, because he’d come here with the sole purpose of getting away for a day. Having Harry this close, however, it does things.

The man’s green orbs are worried, his lips downwards and Louis knows he’ll be causing more of this if he opts to try and assure Harry he’s completely fine. The thing is, you see, that he doesn’t know how to say it. He’s not said it out loud himself, not once since he’d heard the news. Saying it would make it real, make it true, just as talking about his intention to divorce Eleanor has now made that particular matter so real, Louis can’t shake it. He’s not sure if he’s ready to face the reality of this quite yet.

”You know I’ll be here for you, no matter what,” Harry assures, giving Louis’ chest a slow stroke.

Louis has to lick his dry lips and swallow before he can open his mouth, and even then the words feel heavy like rocks, tumbling out of him like someone else is saying them. ”My mum, she has leukemia.”

The silent shock on Harry’s face is justified. Louis imagines he'd looked exactly the same when Jay had told him. He had asked if she was serious, even, which is ridiculous, of course, because why would Jay have told him something like that if she wasn’t serious. Why would her eyes have been watery and her hands shaken from fright. Harry doesn’t ask if Louis is serious.

Instead he wraps his arm around the older’s waist and places his forehead on top of Louis’. The other’s eyes fall shut and he has to press his lips tightly together so that he won’t start crying. ”I’m so, so sorry, Lou. I don’t know what to say.”

Louis doesn’t need words, he doesn’t want them. There’s no words that’ll ever make this better, no words that’ll cure his mother. ”You don’t have to say anything. It’s a shitty situation, I know it and you can imagine. Just, be here, ’s all I want.”

”I will,” Harry whispers, tightening his grip on Louis, his hand drowning in Louis’ hair again.

The silence holds so much in it, so many emotions, but the first thing Louis feels is relief. He hadn’t told anyone else yet, Jay had specifically asked him not to tell his siblings or Abbie. He’s been meaning to tell Liam, but every time Louis has seen him ever since Jay told him, he’s felt a lump form in his throat and he’s had to push the whole thought away. Louis wants to be pulled together when he tells the other man, wants to show him that he’ll be okay, that worrying will do no good. He needs to do that for his own sake.

Telling Harry feels natural, though, in a way the older doesn’t want to think more about. Louis hadn’t planned on talking about this, not here. He wanted to get out of the house to escape this, to postpone facing it in a way. Harry’s presence just tends to reset Louis’ ability to hide his emotions. It’s nearly impossible to keep a thing this big to himself, especially when it’s pushing him down the way it has been doing for a while now.

Their position is uncomfortable to say the least, but Louis doesn’t want to move. He wants to get closer if possible, in fact. Harry’s skin is so warm against him, his touch comforting and steadying.

”I know I can’t say or do anything to make it easier,” Harry says as he, unfortunately, lifts his head up again. ”But know that you can always call me or come to me when you need to.”

Louis opens his eyes and swallows. ”Thank you, Haz.”

Harry doesn’t say anything more, just offers Louis a comforting smile, his eyes warm and understanding.

Just as Louis is about to tell Harry his plans regarding his mother, the door opens and Abbie steps inside, along with a plastic bag. ”The dessert’s here.”

Just a moment too late Louis realises how the position they’re in might seem a little not-friendly to someone else, someone like his teenage daughter. Someone else probably wouldn’t notice how her brows climb up a notch or how her eyes widen the tiniest bit, but Louis does. Abbie schools her features quickly, however, taking off her shoes.

”Was there a line?” Harry asks with raised brows, not in a hurry to move away.

”Yeah, pretty long one actually,” Abbie nods as she places the bag on the kitchen table and gets rid of her jacket, casually throwing it on one of the chairs. ”Where do you keep your spoons, Harry?”

”The top drawer, left one,” the man guides from the couch. ”Pick the multicolored ones. It might seem like they’ll crumble in your hands, but they’re the best ones.”

Abbie nods, getting to work with the dessert, scooping some of the chocolate ice cream into bowls. She chats to them about the kids she’d seen on her way to the store, animatedly telling jokes to Harry while she hustles through the small kitchen. The heavy, dismal atmosphere has slipped away through the window, gone to bother someone else. Everything feels natural to Louis, as much as it scares to admit it. He doesn’t want to give too much power to that thought, otherwise he might think he could get used to the banter of these two.

Harry’s thighs shake with every laugh the man lets out, Louis’ head bobbing along them. The younger’s hand is still buried deep in his hair and for a moment Louis closes his eyes and let’s the universe do it’s good work. He’ll get through this, he’ll have to.

”Ice cream is served,” Abbie announces plopping down on the chair.

Harry looks down at Louis and slowly pulls his hand away. ”Ready for some sweetness?”

Louis grins at him. ”Of course.”

–

Louis and Abbie only get on the road after five p.m. since Harry challenged them to play a round of _Cluedo_. Abbie had beaten them both and Harry had been so impressed they’d played again. And then again. Louis didn’t mind the least bit, though. He was beyond happy seeing the two getting along so well and also very grateful for the time spent away from London. He thinks Harry kind of had that in mind, too.

For the first quarter of their journey Abbie keeps texting with her friends, at least that’s what Louis guesses by the way she keeps laughing and grinning at her phone. That time Louis uses to emotionally prepare for facing the void that inevitably will smack him in the face as soon as he opens the door to their house.

Louis isn’t the type of a person to let it show when he’s dwelling on things, hates to make people worry over him and that’s part of the reason he hasn’t yet told Liam about his mother. He knows the moment he opens his mouth, Liam will look at him differently. He won’t say anything, perhaps, but he’ll urge Louis to leave early from work, he’ll offer to do some of the work Louis should do, he’ll invite Louis over more often and maybe give him a hug every now and then.

It’s not that Louis doesn’t appreciate all that, of course he does. All of those things, however, tend to make him feel like he’s the center of attention, and where as he loves that when the light of success shines on him, he’s always felt incredibly uncomfortable when people take notice of his negative feelings.

”Hey, dad,” Abbie’s voice breaks through his thoughts, making Louis glance at her.

”Hmm?”

The girl’s eyes are inquisitive, her hands fiddling with her phone. ”Are you alright? You seem a bit out of it.”

Louis nods, automatically pulling a smile on his lips. ”Of course, bub. All good. It’s been a long day, that’s all.”

”Did you have fun?” Abbie asks after a moment’s pause.

The man purses his lips and briefly wonders if anything that happens in his life as of now can be called fun. If so, then that something includes both Harry and Abbie. ”I did. I’m glad I got to spend time with you.”

His daughter smiles, her eyes twinkling. ”Me too, dad. And Harry, too. He’s actually super cool, I think.”

”Yeah, he kind of is,” Louis admits, nodding. ”Maybe we’ll invite him to visit us one day?”

The girl ponders on it, her painted nails tapping her cheek. ”Do I have to cook?”

Louis cringes. ”Oh god, no. No one would survive that disaster.”

 

**\- January 18th, Tuesday**

Getting out of the house doesn’t happen often enough, Louis thinks as he enters the bar with Liam in tow. Lately Louis’ been spending more and more time at the office just to avoid going home, just to avoid facing Eleanor and that has resulted in him doing more work hence seeing less of his friends.

”They’re sitting in the back. Zayn texted,” Liam hollers over the noise in the pub.

Louis offers to get the pints for them and Liam happily complies, gladly letting Louis buy him. There’s a small queue at the bar, so the man leans on it, not in any hurry. The dim lights and loud chatter around him contrary to the usual, calm him down. The clock is just about enough for people to have piled in the pub after work, getting that one pint before heading home to their children and spouses. Louis feels comfortingly normal standing there, blending in the chatty crowd, the killer headache easing by the minute.

There’s only two bartenders working, Louis notes, and the other one of them seems to have his hands full with flirting rather than with the pints. Many of the men standing at the edge of the counter are businessmen like him, older though, suits on and ties hanging around their necks. Not so many of them are impressed by the young boy’s attempts, murmuring and grunting in response.

Watching the exchange amuses Louis to a certain extent. He’s never understood that discomfort these terribly masculine men must feel when a twink-y guy like the bartender approaches them, especially if it’s a customer service situation, like this one. Of course it might feel uncomfortable if you’re crazy loyal to your spouse, but from the repelled looks on the men’s faces, Louis can tell this simply isn’t about that.

Even still, Louis wishes he’d be lucky enough to avoid this specific bartender, only because lately he feels like he’s been getting awful lot of hitting attempts thrown his way and he’s not sure if he’s up in his game at this age anymore. Usually he just knowingly rejects every single attempt, most likely with a poor choice of words, and that results in very, very awkward situations. Louis doesn’t want one of those tonight.

Much to the man’s misfortune, yet not to anyone’s surprise, the bartender slides in front of him, his smile straight out of a toothpaste commercial. ”Hey, mate. What can I get for ya?”

Admittedly, the young man is amusingly perky and not too shabby looking either, his skin smooth and a bit tanned, accent probably Australian. Out of courtesy, Louis offers him a smile of his own. ”Two pints, please. Make the other one non-alcoholic, yeah?”

”Sure. I’m guessing no halves?” The other grins, picking up two bigger glasses and begins to fill them up, before Louis has the chance to say anything.

Perky _and_ eager.

”Think I might need a full one, yeah,” the older says nevertheless.

The bartender laughs at that, even though Louis is fairly sure his words didn’t entail a joke, not even a half of one. The appreciative look he’s aiming at Louis, though, leaves little room for guessing. The lad’s eyes are raking Louis’ body so openly, the older is fairly sure half of the others have already picked up on it. The urge to roll his eyes is strong, but he controls himself, not wanting to be the same as the uptight businessmen surrounding him.

”Here we go,” the boy grins with his straight, white teeth. ”That’ll be 12 pounds, please.”

Louis pulls his wallet out of his breast pocket and hands the lad a twenty. The glint in his eye never wavers as he digs up the change for the older. Before he hands the money to Louis, he picks up a white piece of paper from the counter and scribbles something on it with a ballpoint pen. Louis wants to leave.

”Eight back, here you go, mate. Oh, and that’s also my number, in case you’re ever in need of, like, I don’t know. A date,” he shrugs, batting his eyelashes, the smile tightly in place.

Louis looks at the small, white paper in his hand that reads a phone number and the name ’Michael’, the ’i’ with a heart dot, of course. The older truly wants to cringe, but also kind of sigh out of relief, because now – if not before – he’s one hundred per cent sure that Harry isn’t in his life just because he’s easy on the eye.

Instead of showing any of his thoughts on his face, he flashes another smile to Michael and waves his left hand, decorated with a silver band, in front of the bloke. ”Thanks for the offer, but I’ve quit playing a long time ago.”

Michael pouts, but that lasts barely for a second, before the blinding smile springs back. ”Keep the number. You never know.”

Louis nearly snorts, but contains himself, leaving the bar behind with his and Liam’s pints in his hands. Navigating through a full pub with one pint can be tricky, let alone with two. Finding his friends turns out to be one of the hardest things Louis has had to do all day, so when he does stumble upon them, the first thing he does is complain.

”You better enjoy that. Was proper hard work to get it.”

Niall laughs, patting Louis on the back. ”As if anything’s ever hard work for your pretty face, Lou. Liam does all the dirty work.”

Louis gives the Irish lad a murderous look, before turning to his best friend. ”The pub is full, as you can see. I’m small, as you can also see. Nearly got stomped out there for ten thousand times.”

”Tough life,” Liam nods, his expression serious, almost political. Louis considers punching him, but opts not to, deciding the assistant will be more of use with his face flawless.

”What have you people been up to? Feels like I haven’t been hanging out with you in ages,” Louis shakes his head, actually unable to recall the last time they were like this, sitting in a pub without a real reason to do so.

”Oh, that must be because it has been ages,” Niall clicks his fingers, the always happy smile never leaving his lips.

Louis can’t deny that it stings, he’s deserved that. Work and Harry and his mother have been taking up a lot of his time, as well as the situation at home. Or rather, avoiding the situation. After his and Abbie’s trip to Liverpool, Harry has made it his task to make sure Louis is feeling well, daily. Where as before they sometimes used to have days in between their conversations, nowadays Harry texts every day, even if they had just called the night before. Only exception are Louis’ international business trips.

Louis appreciates Harry’s efforts a lot, he’s glad he told the other in the end. But it’s a given that now even more of his time is spent with his phone in his hand than before. Liam has obviously picked up on that, but much to Louis’ surprise, hasn’t said a thing about it.

”I’m sorry, Neil,” Louis sighs, offering a small smile to the blonde. ”I’ve been stressed lately.”

Usually no one would pick up on this, because there’s rarely a time when Louis isn’t stressed, but today the subject doesn’t change, for some reason. ”Are you feeling alright?” Zayn asks, leaning forward in his seat.

Louis raises his brows and gives the other a slow nod. ”I’m alive, aren’t I?”

The raven haired man rolls his eyes at Louis, then glancing at Liam, who in turn bites down on his lower lip. Something is going on, as much is clear. Niall seems to be just as out of it as Louis is, because he asks what’s he missing.

”The other day,” Liam begins, fiddling with his pint glass, ”Eleanor came by the office. You were having a smoke break, said something about making a call. She wanted to see you. Demanded, more like. And I told her you were out, but that you shouldn’t be disturbed because I didn’t know what was the call about, maybe it was work related. She got mad, accused you of having an affair. I’ve never seen her lose her cool like that.”

The headache is back, pounding on the walls of Louis’ mind. He wipes at his eyes with his hands and groans. ”Why didn’t you tell me, Liam?”

The younger shakes his head, at a loss for words. ”We’d gone through that with you already, I didn’t want to bring it up again.”

Louis sighs, licking at his lips and shaking his head. He’s told Eleanor not to come to the office without telling him, simply because he’s never sure where he might be and at what time. Even more than that, Louis is annoyed by the way she’s apparently acted at his workplace. Just because they’re having problems at home.

”Why exactly are you upset, Lou?” Niall asks, inching closer to Louis. ”Because she did that? Or because of something else?”

”If you’re asking if I’m cheating, then no, I’m not,” Louis gives the three a meaningful look, before continuing. ”We are having problems with El. She thinks it’s because I’m cheating, I think it’s because we were pretty much doomed from moment one.”

A silence falls upon the table, the three probably waiting for Louis to go on, to explain. Louis feels heavy again, like he’s facing another fence, just like every time he’s had to explain this to someone, like with Harry and his mother. The fence keeps getting smaller, naturally, but it’s still exhausting to bring up his problems at every corner. Maybe he should just start sending out a memo every time something happens.

”What does that mean for you and her then?” Zayn asks after a while.

”I’m not up for round two, so,” Louis shrugs. ”I guess it means I’m filing for a divorce, after we talk.”

Niall raises his brows, but neither Liam or Zayn seem too surprised by Louis’ words. Louis doesn’t blame them, he should have done this months, maybe even years, ago. ”And Abbie?”

The oldest shakes his head and lets out a strangled laugh. ”Oh, boy. Wish I knew what to do with her, haven’t told her yet.”

Liam offers him a comforting smile from the other side of the table as Niall just shakes his head, muttering something about this being ’ _wild_ ’.

”Tell her, for sure,” Zayn advices, ”She’s old enough to know and will probably just be madder if you don’t tell her. If it’s tense around your house, I’m pretty sure she’ll even feel relieved.”

Louis nods. ”That’s what Harry says, too.”

”Right. Where does he stand in all of this?” Niall asks, leaning his jaw on top of his hand.

”What do you mean?”

The Irish lad looks at all of them, the rest sharing equally confused looks on their faces. ”I thought it was obvious? You’re clearly happier with him than anyone else. Aren’t you going to, like, start dating him or summat? I mean, the chemistry is tangible between the two of you.”

Louis opens his mouth and closes it again. ”Weren’t you listening? I’m not leaving El for someone else.”

The youngest rolls his eyes and gives Louis a look. ”I didn’t say that. Just pointed out an observation and made a suggestion. No need to get your pants twisted over it.”

”He’s right, though,” Zayn says, catching Louis’ eye. ”As much as it scares you to admit it, he’s right. I don’t remember when was the last time I’ve seen you as happy as you were at that Christmas party. And in general, nowadays. You glow, almost. It’s bordering to creepy, really.”

Louis hadn’t thought about it. Thought about his happiness showing outside, never stopped in front of a mirror while being around Harry. It’s obvious to himself that he’s happier when he’s around Harry, obvious that he feels younger and more alive than he’s felt in years, but he’d never understood it’s become permanent now. Has it?

”I’m,” Louis has to furrow his brows, take his time to find his words, ”Sorry?”

Poor choice, of course. All of the three groan and Louis earns a few slaps to his hands, which he pulls away quickly. ”Stop being stupid. You’re not a stupid person,” Zayn deadpans.

”I’m not, you’re right,” Louis admits. ”But I am a father. A father who’s scared of letting down his daughter.”

That makes his friends go silent, their faces falling a little, the excitement disappearing from their eyes. Louis has had the time with this, he’s rolled this around his head, examined the thought from every single corner and angle, but even if he’d be able to overcome every single other obstacle - such as the divorce, Harry’s feelings and the distance - not once has he been able to bypass Abbie. Not once.

”I’m letting her down hard enough as it is,” Louis shakes his head, the sweating pint between his hands. ”I couldn’t bear to let her face this, too.”

Liam pulls back in his seat a little, his expression something in between bafflement and hurt. ”Face what? A happy father? Love? She’s born in the 21st century, Louis. We’ve taught her good, to her love is love.”

Louis feels bad about his words immediately, bad about underestimating his daughter and the affect Liam and Zayn, along with his and Eleanor’s bringing up, have had on her. He feels like he has trouble controlling his tongue lately and it feels awful. ”I’m sorry. I don’t mean _that,_ but I’m still afraid she won’t see it the way we do. She thinks Harry is nice and cool, but wouldn’t it be completely different if he were to take El’s place?”

”But he wouldn’t,” Niall shakes his head. ”Harry will never be her mother, you doof. Not even a step-mother or -father, for that matter. She won’t see it like that, either.”

Louis wants to believe them, but Abbie is the biggest weak spot he has. If the girl would disapprove of his life choices, Louis would surely blame it on himself for the rest of his life. Somehow the guilt doesn’t appeal to him.

He shakes his head and groans. ”Does any of that matter? I don’t even know how Harry feels and even still, I’m married.”

Liam lifts his hands up as a sign of surrender. ”You’re right, you’re right. Get the first marriage out of the way before planning a second one.”

Louis chuckles, but it’s void of much humour. ”Well you said it. Even if I’d ever be willing to re-marry, I don’t want to have any children, Abbie’s so old already. Harry surely would like kids, he loves them.”

Zayn raises his brows at that, quietly taking a sip from his pint while both Liam and Niall are doing poor job at hiding their grins. ”What?”

”Did you not just say that you’re still married? Maybe don’t worry about new kids yet, Lou.”

The oldest lets his face hit the table, completely baffled by where his life has taken him. Never in a million years did he think he’d end up here at thirty-six. The whole subject of getting divorced and maybe facing his own feelings towards his awfully young friend are making his head spin in an unpleasant way.

”Okay, fine. Let’s bloody forget about that for now,” he says, muffled from where his mouth is nearly pressed to the table.

The conversation above him halts until he lifts his head up, puffing his fringe out of his face. He needs to get a haircut. ”Is that all then? You’ve been on phone with your mother a lot? Abbie mentioned something that you’ve spent a lot of nights there, too.”

”I don’t think I pay for you to keep track of my every move, do I?” Louis asks unimpressed, earning a sheepish smile from Liam.

Another big thing coming his way, and briefly Louis considers sweeping it under the rug, but in the end decides it’s easier to get it all out of the way at once. ”She’s sick, my mum.”

Three pairs of worried eyes stare back at him and Louis can basically see the questions on the tips of their tongues, even though none of them actually say anything, trusting Louis will tell them. The oldest takes a sip of his warming pint and purses his lips. He’s not sure how to approach this, it still feels a bit unreal and he’s never really been the one to break the bad news to anyone. These people are different from Harry, he knows that.

None of the will get up and give him a hug now, maybe later when they’re heading out. If Louis lets them, they’ll console him, but otherwise they’ll do as Louis wishes them to do. They’ve always been like that with him and right now he’s more than glad about it. As much as Harry’s approach works with a closed-off person like him, sometimes he needs the wordless support just as much as the voiced one.

”She was diagnosed with leukemia, a month back or so,” Louis swallows, nodding, more to himself than anyone else. He doesn’t dare to look up, but instead keeps going. ”The treatment isn’t working yet, but it takes a while, usually. Before you ask, I’m okay, taking it day by day. Harry knows and now you, but besides that only Lottie and Dan, so we’re keeping a low-profile. For the kids.”

A chorus of ’ _I’m sorrys_ ’ reaches Louis, but he’s focusing on breathing and keeping himself in tact. Crying at a pub on a Tuesday isn’t exactly something he enjoys doing. ”Either way. She’s a fighter. I’m sure she’ll make it.”

Louis tries to believe in those words, the best he can, and he knows his mother will be in the prayers of all these people now and it gives him a little bit of hope to hold on to, just like every single day his mother is still alive when he calls her. Eventually he raises his head to come face to face with three of his closest friends, all of their eyes filled with understanding and sympathy. Louis feels like he’s being over-dramatic, he’s thirty-six already, he should be alright without a mother, but he’s not. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to say goodbye to the woman that raised him, was his best friend when he most needed her. And that’s just how it is.

”We’re here, yeah?” Zayn mumbles, patting Louis’ hand twice over the table, while the others hum in agreement.

”Yeah,” he nods, aiming a small smile at them.

It’s silent among them for about ten seconds, the pub’s noises filling those seconds, until Niall asks about Zayn’s upcoming art exhibition and so the conversation keeps moving on. Louis takes a minute, maybe two, longer before he’s able to catch up from his thoughts and it’s okay. He feels a little bit lighter again, better, for not having to hide anything from these three.

As he listens to their plans for the summer and whatnot, he feels like maybe he’s at the best possible place in his life to make some more radical choices, even if Jay is sick. Or maybe that’s just one of the things that helps him make a decision. After all, life is limited for all of them.

**\- January 20th, Thursday**

Postponing things has always been Louis’ forte. When it comes to business, he likes to be straightforward, but everything else he would re-schedule until his very own deathbed, especially if the matter that needs dealing happens to be unpleasant. Louis certainly admires Eleanor’s persistence with making Louis stay home for the night, but it doesn’t mean Louis wouldn’t rather be in a burning house than here.

Abbie was send off to her friend’s house and Louis was strictly advised not to have any plans for tonight, because Eleanor is sick of trying not to step on the shards of glass, sick of avoiding the mess that just so happens to be their marriage. Louis can’t argue with that, of course, he’s just as tired, if not even more, but he’s quite sure Eleanor hasn’t come to the same conclusion as he has, judging by the ’ _we’re fixing this_ ’ look she’d given Louis when they had sat down for dinner about half an hour ago.

Since then they have been exchanging hesitant glances, Louis has been unable to shake the vivid image of his own parents sitting around the scuffed, wooden table at his childhood home and yet, he’s managed to realise just how glad he is Eleanor had the sense to send Abbie away. It’s going to be hard enough as it is.

”How is your mother? Is the treatment working?”

Louis isn’t taken aback by the question, not per se, but at the same time it does feel like a punch to the gut, just because Eleanor hasn’t brought the subject up once since Louis told her about it. It feels like a fraud, a little. ”Nothing new. The treatment isn’t showing any progress, but her condition hasn’t changed drastically either.”

Eleanor nods, a somewhat relieved smile grazing her lips. ”That’s good to hear. I do hope they’ll be able to cure her.”

”Yeah, we all do,” Louis points out, failing to stop the bitterness from slipping into his voice. ”Anyways. You wanted to talk.”

The woman raises her brows, placing down her cutlery as she wipes her lips with a napkin. ”You’re saying that like you don’t think there’s anything that needs sorting out?”

Louis takes a sip from the water, and it’s almost like it burns in his mouth, though that might just be his nerves. Eleanor must sense his mood as she gives Louis an expectant look. ”I do think we need to talk, I just. Well, I guess I’ll never be quite ready.”

The words sink in slowly, Louis can see the moment they settle in, the moment his wife realises Louis isn’t here to ’fix this’, but rather to give up on a lost fight. Their eyes meet and disbelief is what Louis sees in those familiar brown orbs, disbelief and outrage.

” _This_ is why you have been avoiding talking to me?” Eleanor’s voice is strained, her red-painted nails a stark contrast on her white cheek. ”I just thought you we’re being a brat about making up, because of the things I said, but _this._ ”

Louis has to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid blurting out anything inconsiderate. He offers the woman a sympathetic smile, though he can only imagine how little it helps. It’s a marriage of nearly sixteen years, of course it feels bad to see it unravel. ”I apologise for prolonging this. You know my nature, it’s more than unfortunate.”

She scoffs, her lips twitching into a humorless smile. ”I thought I knew your nature. Apparently not, since I feel terribly astonished, Louis.”

”I have to say I’m more surprised you didn’t see this coming. When was the last time we used full sentences to talk about something else than bills or our daughter?” Louis shakes his head, fiddling with his napkin. ”I might have made the decision after our fight, but the thought has been there for much, much longer, El.”

A silence falls upon them, one filled with thick, heavy air. Louis feels heavy as well, like weights are hanging off of him. So many things are changing around him, things that he can’t control no matter how much he wants to. He wonders if he’s completely foolish to terminate the only constant in his life by his own choice, at a time like this. Maybe he is.

”I don’t understand you. Don’t you want to try and work through this? Isn’t that what marriage is about?” Eleanor leans closer across the table, her eyes filled with desperation.

She knows Louis has given up on them, and still she tries, which only serves to make Louis feel worse. ”I can’t work through something I don’t believe in anymore.”

”What don’t you believe in anymore?” Eleanor asks. ”Me? Our marriage? Our _family_?”

Louis turns his gaze away and strains his jaw. ”Don’t you think I wanted this to work? Not only for our sake, but Abbie’s? She deserves a family, but this is not it.”

”Then what is? What is, if not her mother and father in the same house?” The woman’s voice is cracking here and there and Louis can’t tell if she’s more upset about their marriage having come to this or for their daughter.

”Happy parents sharing a home,” he mumbles. ”That would be ideal, but we can’t offer her that. So, for us, it’s two happy parents, two happy homes.”

Eleanor seems disappointed and irritated, Louis doesn’t blame her. He’s here, breaking apart their life as they know it. He would probably be mad, too, if the roles were reversed. He’s still having mixed feelings about this whole decision himself, but at the same time he can feel something better coming his way in the future, hoping it’s going to make up for whatever horrible things this may cause.

”Why now? Out of all times? Besides the fight, life has been the same.”

Louis had expected this question, but he hadn’t been able to prepare anything that sounds real, truthful. It seems crude to just go all out and blatantly say he’s not in love with her anymore and he doesn’t want to use Abbie’s well-being as an excuse, it’d make him feel even worse. And he doesn’t know _why_ now, it just has to happen now. He’s not happy anymore, this isn’t the relationship he got into over sixteen years ago.

The man shrugs, rubbing his temples. He can hear his phone ringing with Harry’s ringtone somewhere in the living room, but he tries his best to ignore it. Clearly Eleanor has heard it, too, and judging by the expression on her face, she knows who it is. Her brows pull into an annoyed frown, her lips turning downwards.

”Didn’t you promise to love me ’until death do us part’?” Her voice is mocking, seething even.

Louis _knew_ this wouldn’t be easy, it’s not easy on him either. He can see how under all that anger and hate, there’s hurt – there’s heartbreak.The older can tell it’s only going to get worse from here on, his heartbeat quickening in his chest and his teeth gritting together.

”I did, but – ”.

”Is _that_ death? Is that what death looks like to you?”

Eleanor is pointing towards the living room where Louis’ phone is still ringing with Harry’s incoming FaceTime call and Louis feels all kinds of sick. Despite his heart stuttering in his chest, he can remember all the reasons he’s leaving this woman, his wife of fifteen years. It is not happening on light grounds and he knows this, and that is all that matters.

Louis gets up from the table, leaning his hands on it. ” _That_ ,” he pauses for emphasis, his blue eyes blazing, ”is my best friend. The same person who understands all the reasons I’m walking out of this marriage. The person who knows I have never done anything, nor will I ever do, that would violate my vows to you. Never with him.”

With those words Louis leaves the kitchen and picks up his phone and jacket and heads out of the door. He’s going to need something to do with his hands.

 

**\- January 30th, Sunday**

Louis isn’t exactly sure why it has taken him this long to actually get here. Here, as in his phone between his ear and shoulder, ringing Harry, while he’s trying to juggle some of Liam’s fancy glasses in to the cabinet. He’s been meaning to make this call for days now, ten, to be exact, but somehow he’s managed to dodge the subject for all of those days now.

Harry picks up after the fourth ring, his voice suspiciously breathy. ”Hullo, Lou.”

Louis’ brows furrow and his lips pull into a confused smile as he pushes three glasses into the cabinet. ”Are you having sex?”

A barking, abrupt laugh comes through the speaker, jolting Louis, nearly making him drop the iPhone. ”I’m on a run.”

The older raises his eyebrows at that, figures he should’ve guessed as much when it comes to Harry. He lazily walks back to the dishwasher as he tries to think of something to say that would make Harry smile. ”I find it quite funny that you would laugh at my words, Harold. Isn’t it a likely scenario where you answer to your phone while banging some cute little lad, hm?”

Harry does laugh at that, before he points out in a matter-of-fact tone that ’ _it’s called making love_ ’. ”And anyways. If it’s you calling, I probably would answer. I’m loyal like that.”

Louis snorts and picks up another three glasses, narrowly avoiding dropping one of them, managing to save Liam’s precious baby from near-death. He sighs in relief and pushes the glasses on the counter top. ”Why’d you call, Lou?”

For a moment there Louis wants to prolong this a little longer, but at the same time he knows Harry’s already onto him, knows he wouldn’t call without a reason, not randomly like this, in the middle of the day. He smiles to himself, rather bitterly, and taps his fingers on the table. ”I talked with her.”

Harry doesn’t reply right away, his breathing still heavy, matching his every step. Louis waits patiently on the other end, imagines Harry running on the streets of Liverpool, phone on his ear and his eyes widened, maybe his forehead creased.

”Oh?” Harry eventually says. ”D’she take it well? I’m guessing not.”

Louis snorts at that, his fingers halting their movement. ”She accused me of things, was shell-shocked, which I don’t really understand. Me wanting a divorce wasn’t exactly the surprise of the year, in my opinion.”

”Accused you?”

Louis purses his lips and wonders what it is that Harry would like to hear, what should Louis say so that he wouldn’t hurt the other. Eleanor has showed her distaste towards Harry since day one, yhe younger must be aware of that, and where as Louis normally would strive to be honest with Harry, this might make the younger backtrack on their relationship.

”The usual, you know,” Louis waves his hand around aimlessly, before picking up one of the worshiped glasses and places it in the cupboard.

Harry’s breathing is evening out slowly and Louis can see in his mind the younger slowing down his pace, down to jogging and then walking. He wonders what it would be like to go on morning runs with the other. ”She thinks you’re cheating.”

The older cringes, happy that Harry can’t see him. He picks up another glass and then the last one, putting both of them to their rightful places before closing the whole cupboard and the dishwasher. ”She was just trying to pin it on me.”

”Uh-huh,” Harry breathes out and Louis knows, he absolutely _knows_ that Harry’s squinting his eyes, the wheels in his head are spinning and he probably wants to say something Louis hopes he’ll regret later.

”With me, right?”

The older shuts his eyes tight and lets out an incoherent noise, something between a huff and an unhappy squeal. ”Don’t do that.”

”Do what?” Harry’s laugh is incredulous, void of any humour. ”She’s basically calling me a homewrecker. No big deal, right.”

”Haz,” Louis says softly in to the phone, staring down at his sock-less feet, wishing he’d be able to touch Harry, hug him. ”Don’t say that.”

”No, you _don’t_ ,” Harry groans. ”If you keep saying that, then I’ll stop blaming myself and that’s not – .”

”Not what, Harry?” Louis interrupts, his voice strict, unyielding. ”I will not have you blaming yourself for something that’s been happening over years and years, long before I even knew a person like you existed. It’s El who’s coming between you and I right now.”

There’s a pause in the conversation where Louis hugs himself, his eyes shut and ears attentive, trying to hear every little noise Harry makes. Trying to detect his mood, something at least. He’s never regretted not calling a FaceTime call more than he does in this moment.

”But I’m a factor here, Lou,” Harry’s voice is dreary, more so than Louis has ever heard it.

”Fuck that. There are tons of factors, I’d run out of years to live if I’d start counting all the bloody factors,” Louis shakes his head to himself. ”You’ve only made me happier. No crime there, love.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and a shudder-y, small laugh follows. ”Fuck you. I’m not smiling.”

Louis is, though, and he feels lucky to be smiling, lucky to be here, overwhelmingly so. He clicks his tongue. ”I think you are.”

”You’ve got no proof,” Harry simply points out, his tone smug.

”I’d love the banter, Hazza, but this isn’t exactly why I called,” Louis kicks himself into move, needing something to occupy himself with while approaching the actual topic.

Harry seems interested, yet a bit worried too, as he asks why had Louis called then. Louis makes his way to the living space and starts collecting some of the candy bar wrappers and empty crisp bags. He really should start watching what he eats. ”We have this thing we do every year, a trip. With the family and I’ve already booked it, but, well.”

”Aah,” Harry’s tone is slightly amused, ”What a lovely family holiday ahead.”

Louis grins and lets out a small laugh. ”Would be awkward for sure. I’ve decided Eleanor won’t be going though, I can’t handle that much pressure for four days, nuh-uh.”

Harry says he can understand that, but doesn’t seem to connect the dots just yet. Louis is fully aware of the risk he’s taking. He’s putting his dignity on the line, a little bit his and Harry’s friendship, too, but mostly he’s just playing with fire, walking on dangerous waters. Louis is fairly sure Harry will go straight out and decline his offer, but he feels like he needs to ask, if not for himself then for Harry’s sake.

”We could go just the two of us, me and Abbie,” Louis admits, his words coming out slower than usual as he throws the items in his hand in to the trash can. ”But I’ve already paid for the third ticket. And honestly, I need some adult company with me. I could use some support, so that I’ll actually take it as a holiday.”

”Oh God, you’re not doing this,” Harry breathes out, his voice full of dread, ”You’re not. _No_. I refuse to listen to this.”

Louis sighs loudly, pleading for Harry to listen to his request. ”H, I need someone and I can’t think of anyone better than you, please.”

”Liam! Or Zayn. Niall!” Harry cries out. ”Don’t ask me, I can’t say no to you, Lou.”

Louis shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. ”You really shouldn’t have said that. Harry. Please come with us. I’ll even admit it’s purely for my selfish reasons. I want to spend time with you.”

A second, two.

”Fine. Bloody fine, I’m coming,” Harry barks out, but Louis can hear the smile in his voice. ”Where are we going anyways?”

A fond smile spreads on Louis’ lips as he recalls a memory from months back, one that has stuck with him for some reason. For a second there before Louis answers, he thinks about the twists and turns they’ve gone through since then, his eyes crinkling from the corners.

”Pack your pen and notebook, love, this is no Manchester. We’re going to Paris.”

  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise if that one line in French is completely off there. I shamelessly used Google Translate, because I do _not_ speak French. Like, at all. Neither do I have any friends from France or other French speaking countries. So. Sorry if it's wrong. Please do correct me if you see a mistake!

**\- February 17th, Thursday, (** _**Paris)** _

Initially, Harry had felt completely awkward. Awkward to the point where he seriously considered not leaving the motel he’d stayed in at all. Louis' driver had picked him up to go to the airport, however, and so he’d forced himself to get in the car. Once they'd arrived, both Louis and Abbie had been standing there with sleep dust in their eyes and matching Adidas clothes on. Harry hadn't been able to sleep a blink of an eye, naturally, not only stressing over the fact that he's actually going to Paris, but about Abbie, too.

The girl didn't show a sign of annoyance or disappointment, though, not even when Harry had awkwardly shaken her hand, like they'd never met before. Harry can't help it though, feeling like he's intruding, because technically he is. This trip was meant to be a family trip and Harry isn’t that.

He knows Louis had told Abbie they're having problems with Eleanor, and that they're getting a divorce. Louis had called him a long call about it, basically made himself out to be the worst father ever to exist in the human history, and even though Harry had wanted to shut him up, he'd listened. Louis needed to get the guilt out of his system and Harry would listen to him ramble about nonsense like that for the rest of his days, if it would make Louis feel better.

The older did say Abbie took it pretty well, but Harry hadn't really grasped the meaning of ' _pretty well_ ' quite yet, and it makes him nervous. Of course Louis didn't invite him to this trip to make it out to be a romantic get-away, Harry knows that and Abbie probably does too, but he can't help feeling like that's exactly what this is. He feels like a criminal.

The whole flight he'd been tossing and turning while the other two had been sleeping, peacefully. Harry hadn’t even been able to enjoy the first class experience, too wrapped up in his own daunting thoughts. Now that they're finally at the hotel, which is about 50 times fancier than Harry had imagined, he's starting to feel the jitters ease up a little. They're sharing an apartment sized hotel room with two bedrooms and a living space and Harry hast to bite his tongue so that he won't say anything inconsiderate. He’s not used to this level of posh and it makes him a little amused, the extravagance.

"It's really great, dad," Abbie grins happily as she ventures further in to the room.

Louis shrugs at that as he glances at the coat rack placed on the wall, _gilded coat rack_. "A bit pretentious."

Abbie throws him a look over her shoulder before she announces she'll be charging her phone and MacBook in her room.

"El chose it," the older explains with a lower voice, raising his brows. "I could've done with less."

Harry takes in the beige velvet couch and the furry rug in front of it. The mahogany couch table, heavy and gaze-gravitating in the room, the bright red roses in a vase on top of it. It's a lot, too much for sure, but Harry's never been to a hotel like this. He figures it's not the worst thing to experience Paris from this point of view.

"It's not something I'm used to," he nods, a small smile on his lips. "I could get used to it."

Louis seems secretly pleased with Harry's words as he rolls his suitcase in to the other bedroom. Harry is about to check out one of the bathrooms when Louis pokes his head from the doorway. "Uh, H."

"Hmm?"

Louis beckons him over and as soon as Harry steps inside the rather massive room, he sees the problem. "Are you a cuddler?"

Louis has his arms crossed on his chest as he lifts his left shoulder, faux-nonchalantly. "A bit. That a problem?"

Harry bites down on his lower lip and shakes his head so that his curls are bouncing on his shoulders. "No. As long as you're the big spoon."

The older raises his brows at Harry, his lips pulling in to a smile. "Why of course, Harold."

Harry bats his lashes and adds a grin, before he takes a closer look at the room. It's huge and has a proper, dark brown parquet floor and the walls are painted azure blue, creating a calm vibe. There's another furry carpet, one much like in the living space, and heavy curtains frame the windows. A massive, massive king-sized bed stands in the middle of the room, stealing away the attention of much smaller things, like the four square shaped paintings on the left wall. It's posh, to say the least, but what gets Harry gaping are the old-fashioned, wooden doors - that are completely out of the style of the room, yet fitting - that lead to a huge balcony.

The brown wood feels smooth, nearly soft under Harry's fingertips as he pulls the doors open, stepping outside. They're in the 10th floor or something like that, and even though Harry's first thought had been the price, now he can understand why people pay for this view. In front of him, a mile or two away, stands the Eiffel Tower, tall and beautiful. In that exact moment Harry decides he's happy he came here and even happier that Louis told him to bring his notebook.

"You like it?" the said man's voice comes from behind him.

Harry can see people strolling far down below them, couples and families mixing with traffic and joy fills his body. "Love it."

"Good," Louis hums. "We should go get something to eat. And then we'll meet up with an old friend of mine, if that's cool with you."

The younger turns to face Louis, who's got a lit cigarette between his lips. The smaller is swimming in his black Adidas jumper, his ocean blue eyes bright and alive, more so than Harry's ever seen them. "I don't mind."

In fact, Harry's more than eager to meet anyone who's part of Louis' life and hence part of the man himself. During these months the two have been friends, Harry has noticed that the people Louis has befriended reflect Louis' inner world better than any words ever could. Until this day Harry has failed to tell Louis this, failed to admit how much he actually wants to be a part of Louis himself, be one of those people who reflect the man. He's scared to do so.

"Is he a close friend?"

A tint of affection flickers on Louis' face as he nods. "Used to be. Known him since elementary school."

Their eyes meet and suddenly Harry's quite sure this isn't just any random person from Louis' past. There's something in the man's posture that suggests he might actually be a lot more than Harry hopes he is. "Now I'm nervous. Should I be?"

A tiny laugh leaves Louis' lips as he puts the cigarette out on the ash tray. "I guarantee you, he will be much more nervous once he meets you, H."

Harry wants to ask, but he doesn't dare. One thing about Louis that fascinates Harry is the way he likes to keep certain things to himself. It's not the mystery so much as it is the feeling Harry gets after Louis shows him what he meant, rather than says. Those moments are enlightening at best and they make Harry feel inexplicable things, weirdly enough.

”Alright,” Harry muses, ”I guess it’ll be all good then.”

”It will, promise.”

–

Turns out Louis makes promises easily. The man they meet _is_ nervous, his eyes wide and his hand sweaty when he offers it to Harry. And at first it feels all a bit comical to Harry, this short, Louis’ aged man with round cheeks and thick hair fidgeting in his small chair under Harry’s burning, curious stare. Harry’s been trying to figure out the dynamics in this relationship, but thus far, failed to do so. The man’s name, Stanley, rings a bell somewhere in his memory, but he hasn’t quite reached it yet. He can’t place this man anywhere in Louis’ life, even though the two seem like they used to be close and familiar with each other. It’s clear they haven’t seen in years, though.

All of the nervousness and jitters change the minute Stan brings up current affairs when Abbie has decided to visit the jewelery store across the street, getting bored of the men catching up.

”So, uh. How is Eleanor? Still long-legged and beautiful, I assume.”

Louis lets out an uneasy laugh, casting Harry a quick glance. ”Still all that, yes.”

Stan seems to pick up on Louis’ slightly high-pitched voice, too, as he wrings his fingers together a little bit harder, his brows knitting the tiniest bit. ”You two alright? I couldn’t help noticing she isn’t here.”

The man looks at Harry a little less subtly than he probably means to, but Harry’s willing to let that past him. He’s more interested in Louis’ reaction, since the older is quite keen on his tea cup’s patterns as he hums in a dubious manner. ”I think we’ve walked our road already, to be honest.”

Louis still isn’t looking at Stan and Harry finds that peculiar to say the least. He just keeps replaying that look of fondness on Louis’ face when he’d first mentioned meeting up with Stan, mere hours ago. Something doesn’t add up, but for some reason Harry has a gut-feeling that he’d rather not find out what exactly.

Stan seems surprised to hear Louis’ words and Louis generously gives him the time to collect his thoughts, to open and close his mouth enough times to catch about seventeen flies. Harry thinks Louis must know this man like the back of his hand, being so aware of his habits and predicting his reactions like this. A tinge of jealousy arises in him, but he tries to reign it in.

”Oh,” is all Stan says eventually, his blue eyes turning to Harry.

Louis has finally raised his gaze, which now follows Stan’s, and Harry starts feeling nervous, bothered even. The two men’s eyes meet, and Harry feels like he’s not part of the conversation at all anymore, not able to understand what ever is being said between the pair’s looks. Another surge of ugly feelings passes through, but he ignores it.

”Are you handling it?” Stan asks, half a minute later.

Louis’ lips quirk up as he shrugs. ”I’m not particularly crushed.”

Stan’s laugh is louder than Harry had imagined it, turning people’s attention to their table, as it suddenly escapes the man’s lips. Harry can’t remember when was the last time he felt this bothered by a person.

”So it’s safe to say you’re not up for a spin? For old times sake?”

Harry isn’t a hundred per cent sure what Stan is referring to, but his tone is boldly flirtatious and makes the younger feel cold underneath his skin. He has a strong urge to just walk out of the café they’re sitting at, suddenly feeling like this isn’t something for his ears, but he doesn’t want to do it to Louis.

”Aren’t you married though?” Louis’ voice is more strained, more tense than a second ago.

Stan doesn’t seem to notice that, however, as he goes on to basically invalidate his six-year-long marriage and describe much too graphically what part of his and Louis’ shared history he’d like to reminiscence. Harry feels sick to his stomach and Louis seems more bothered than Harry’s ever seen him. The whole situation is surreal and doesn’t make sense to Harry, at all.

”I’m not sure we’re on the same page, Stanley,” Louis chooses his words carefully. ”I, um,” the older looks over to Harry and offers him a small smile, placing his hand on top of Harry’s, ”We need to go, I’m afraid.”

Stan seems confused, as if he’s not sure where did he cross the line. Harry hates feeling triumph as he lets Louis hold his hand, but he feels it anyways, when his gaze meets Stan’s. ”Abbie’s probably going to buy the whole store,” he says, his eyes never leaving the man’s sitting in front of him.

”Uh, right.”

The fidgeting version of their company is back, his brows furrowed with worry and forehead creased. ”Louis,” he stops them when they’re getting up.

”You won’t,” he clears his throat and continues with a lower voice, ”My husband is a jealous man, you see.”

Louis’ eyes steel and his jaw locks, but his lips pull in to a smile. ”Of course not. Goodbye, Stanley.”

They’re out the door before any words reach them and Louis is the first to release a heavy sigh. ”Well that was just bloody cringe worthy, wasn’t it.”

Harry gives him an unimpressed look, but quickly grabs Louis’ arm to halt their movement. ”Was this _the_ Stan? Like, your, um, _a_ love?”

Louis scratches his neck and chuckles, awkwardly. ”Embarrassing, innit. He was not that much of a dick when we were together though.”

”I don’t doubt it,” Harry nods, trying to reach Louis’ gaze, but the older avoids his.

”I was ready to throw my whole life for that guy. Imagine,” the smaller huffs, his voice quiet.

Harry is piecing the puzzle of Louis Tomlinson in his mind again, trying to understand what must be going through his friend’s mind right now, but not quite grasping what the previous encounter might have felt like. He tries to think of seeing Nick again, after such a long time, but even if Nick was as horrible as this man had been, it probably wouldn’t be the same. Harry never really wanted to spend his life with Nick.

”I’m pretty happy you didn’t,” the younger eventually admits, as his eyes land on Abbie who’s waiting for them on the other side of the street. ”You’ve got plenty of great things in your life now.”

Louis finally meets Harry’s eyes, the blue orbs twinkling and his lips pulling up. Then he turns to look at Abbie, who’s waving at them now, her sunglasses in her hand. ”Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

 

 **\- February 18th, Friday (** _**Paris)** _

Harry admits he sometimes is a hopeless romantic, he admits that he tends to romanticize a lot of places and situations that hold no romance whatsoever. Granted, it probably has a lot to do with his degree and he mostly does it in his mind, where no one can see or hear. But this city, he’s decided, deserves to be romanticized regardless of anything that could possibly stand against that.

”I’m not saying it’s _not_ awesome, just that I’m more of a, eh, a huge-sports-monuments kinda guy,” Louis shrugs, but there’s definitely a glint of teasing in his eyes.

They’ve spent the last fifteen minutes debating whether Paris is or isn’t the most beautiful and adorable place on earth. Louis stays winning, but that’s only because he’s seen so many other places. For Harry, besides some of the cities he visited in the U.S, this is the only trip abroad he’s made. ”Fine. You keep liking stadiums and whatnot while I appreciate art galleries like Louvre and old, beautiful churches like Notre Dame.”

Louis grins at him, poking his side with an elbow. ”I’m just joking, Harold. I love Paris, I’ve just seen it from this point of view a few times already. You’d be surprised how many colleagues and business partners think tourist attractions are the best place to try and get me to be cooperative.”

Harry’s brows furrow and his feet come to a stop. ”Are you bored here? I mean, we can do something else, too. I’ll be fine.”

The older stops a few steps ahead of him and for a second he looks like he might roll his eyes. He doesn’t, but instead steps closer to Harry again and offers him a fond, private smile. ”Listen, curly. Abbie’s gone to Clarissa’s and that’s what makes her happy. You and I, we’ve seen Louvre, Notre Dame and soon we’ll see Eiffel Tower, and that’s what makes you happy. When both of you are happy, I’m quite content, too.”

Harry can feel his cheeks burning as he averts his gaze and bites down on his lower lip. He wants to argue, but words aren’t forming and it’s quite frustrating. ”You should do things for yourself, Lou.”

A startled laugh leaves Louis’ lips as he lets his forehead fall on to Harry’s chest briefly, and then he’s meeting Harry’s eyes again. ”Who do you think I’m doing this all for? D’you seriously think I’m such a good person that I would willingly fly you to Paris, just so you could fulfill a dream?”

”Yes,” Harry answers uninflected.

Louis’ eyes light up and he takes Harry’s hand, pulling him forward, towards the tower. ”I’m not that nice of a guy, H.”

A smile spreads on Harry’s lips and he lets Louis keep their fingers intertwined, even though his palm will most likely be sweaty soon enough. The clock is almost five as they join the queue, and Louis tells him that he hopes they’ll be up there before six, when the sun sets.

The wind blows around them and Harry has to lift his shoulders to keep the cold out. Louis mimics his actions and apologises for the weather.

”How is it your fault?” Harry asks, amused.

”Could’ve brought you here during summer, when it’s warmer than bloody six degrees,” Louis laughs, taking both of Harry’s hands and sandwiching them between his own, rubbing at them to keep them warm. Harry gives him a dimpled smile.

”Paris is beautiful either way,” the younger assures, looking at the tower standing next to them and then at Louis again.

The smaller flashes him his teeth and blows some hot air from his mouth on their hands. ”I’m glad you’ve liked it so far.”

”So far? You say that like the city still holds some really big secrets, amazing sights for me to see,” the taller teases, his cheeks dimpling.

”You never know,” they move forward in the line, ”We’ve only seen a fraction, haven’t we.”

Harry hums in agreement. ”But you haven’t got any grand surprises arranged, have you?”

The older shakes his head, trying to peer ahead of them to see the first people of the line. ”I figured Paris in itself is a surprise big enough.”

”Oh, so you thought I would decline,” Harry nods, pressing his lips together, forming a small smile. ”Good thinking.”

Louis offers him an unabashed smile in return, shrugging his shoulders. "Can't really blame me, though," he raises his brows pointedly then, ”We could always take a walk along the Seine before going back to the hotel,” Louis suggests, nodding towards the general direction of the said river.

The younger turns to look, barely able to see Seine through the stripped trees. He bites down on his lip and nods. ”I’d love that.”

–

Harry could say it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his whole life, and it probably is the prettiest scenery he’s come across in all his twenty-four years of life, but none of this would feel nearly as special as it does with Louis and his silly commentary. The sun may have painted the sky in the colours of the most vivid red, yellow and orange, but the effect is magnified with the older man’s complaints about people pushing and poking him. ’ _I’m not_ that _small’,_ he keeps grumbling to innocent tourists stepping on his toes.

”Come here, grumpy,” Harry mutters and pulls Louis in between his arms, so that he’s protecting him from the other, rather loud, tourists around them.

Louis relaxes in his arms right away, his head falling against Harry’s chest. ”I could’ve just booked the whole tower for us.”

Harry snorts, squeezing Louis a little bit tighter against himself. ”Well, isn’t this nicer?”

The smaller wiggles a little, re-adjusting himself and hums contently. ”I suppose.”

 

_[Coldplay - Yellow](https://open.spotify.com/track/3AJwUDP919kvQ9QcozQPxg) _

 

Louis’ hair smells of shampoo and the man himself, filling Harry with something close to tranquility. Everything around them is restless, excited, but he feels at peace. It’s not especially odd, Harry tends to find the peace of mind in the weirdest situations, but today his world kind of narrows down to just Louis and the sunset. The older is speaking, but most of the words are lost on Harry, as he lets his nose bury in Louis’ hair.

Life works it's funny ways, Harry thinks as the man in his arms explains something about the architecture of the oldest buildings in Paris, and he knows he's going to regret not listening later. For now he's content here, close to the man he thinks he might love, in so many ways he can't even explain it. Life works in funny ways, because it tends to throw people in your way, people that you never expected to meet, nor to get attached to. In hindsight, Harry probably should've known that his heart was sold the minute Louis smiled his real, crinkly eyed, canines showing smile, his sweater paws trying to hide those lovely lips. He hadn't seen it coming, though, maybe didn't even want to see it coming.

In the past eight or so months, Harry has been through a roller coaster, one could say. Nothing's necessarily certain for him, he's riding on a scholarship and even his flat could crumble away at any minute, but the one constant he's been able to build some permanent patterns around has been Louis, and though it scares Harry, it also feels calming in a way. Even more calming is the fact that he now realises this, realises that he's actually falling in love - possibly already is in love - with this man who’s incredibly normal, yet all kinds of vivid. A married man, a man with one life already lived, already stored away in the bank for safe-keeping, and Harry's barely even starting his first one.

Scary, but inevitable, he thinks. How could he have resisted Louis? No matter how much he thinks back to the moments, the significant ones and the less significant ones, he can't think of a point where he could've told himself to just take a step back and re-evaluate. There has not been a moment, because Harry was infatuated with Louis the moment he first laid eyes on him. He felt like something, the smallest screw inside him fell in to place or the last stroke of a brush swept through his soul when he first met the man.

It probably wasn't fate, Harry doesn't like to think that he's doomed to have a man with this complicated of a life planted in his life just to tease him, but it was certainly scribbled down on a corner of some book somewhere in this world. Louis feels right and even if nothing ever comes from those gazes they share or the frowns they've tried to hide after hugging goodbye, Harry thinks he'll be just fine, as long as he gets to hold Louis' hand when the other most needs him to, and if Louis will still be there to make jokes about his horribly tight jeans even when he's the one turning thirty-six.

"Are you even listening, Harold?" Louis asks, his tone tilting towards annoyed.

"No," the younger admits easily, looking down at Louis and then taking in the Paris skyline, "I'm feeling happy."

Harry can basically feel Louis roll his eyes with his whole body. "And that makes listening impossible?"

Harry shrugs, his eyes trained to the clouds, the last rays of sunlight painting shadows below them. "I love your voice and your stories, but I can hear them any day. This. This is for today only."

At that the older shifts in his arms, turning to face him. "Are you dying? Is that what's happening?"

Louis seems genuinely worried, so Harry pokes his nose with his index finger, his dimples appearing. "No, silly. I'm fine."

"' _Fine_ '. That's basically the equivalent of 'I'm feeling like shit and I want you to ask me why but at the same time don't ask'," Louis tilts his head, clearly considering Harry. "What is it that's on your mind, curly?"

Harry can feel his cheeks heat a little under Louis' burning gaze and that doesn't happen often. But their close proximity and Louis' soft breaths hitting his face make him feel a bit more out of it, if he's being honest.

He licks his lips, quickly meeting Louis' eyes, before turning to seemingly admire the sunset. "I know we don't really talk about it, for whatever reason, maybe we're scared to hear each other's thoughts, but I'm curious, still."

Louis seems interested as well, his face openly curious. "Go on."

Harry hides his mouth behind his scarf and coughs. "Why are you friends with me? Or, why are we _here_?"

For a second Louis seems baffled, his forehead creased, but then his lips quirk up and he turns his face away, softly biting down on his lower lip as if his own thoughts are making him feel ridiculous. "I'm not a big believer when it comes to fate, but at the same time I don't think coincidences exist. Funny that."'

The older kicks at nonexistent dust, clearing his throat and faces Harry again, his eyes filled with emotion. "At one point I thought you were a great distraction from my miserable life, not going to lie."

Disappointment swells in Harry's stomach, like needles being pressed against his insides, but he nods nonetheless. It scares him how he’d still be happy, even if that was the only reason.

"I loved hearing stories about your life, loved bypassing mine. But then, one day I noticed I wasn't escaping my life to go to you, to the safe haven. Suddenly you had become my reality, my everyday life, and my previous life felt like a dull alternative universe with lifeless people in it, like that movie, _Coraline_. Have you seen it? So, um, you became my reality, that's why, I think."

Louis' gaze doesn't waver, his jaw set and a newfound confidence lights up his eyes. Harry feels a little overwhelmed, not only because he'd never thought Louis had even given a second thought to their odd-couple friendship, but because the man might've just said the most beautiful words Harry's ever heard. He tries to suppress the huge, dimply smile, but it spreads on to his lips anyway.

Louis' cheeks are tinted pink and his mouth opens as if he wants to say something, but then he presses his lips together and shakes his head, changing his mind. "So, I'm not a Ferrari?"

The older's lips twist into a grin. "Isn't that what I've been telling you the whole time?"

Harry shrugs. "It's hard to believe someone you can't read at all."

"What are you on about? You read me like a bloody open book, I've said so a thousand times," Louis gapes at him.

Harry snorts. "I do not. You're one of the most secluded people I've ever met. I'd need a crowbar to get in there." The younger pokes Louis' chest for emphasis.

"Hm," the other corner of Louis' mouth lifts up into a crooked smile, "I guess I'll just have to start opening up then."

Harry hums. "Please do."

They don't say much more, just stand there in each other's arms, smiling, exchanging a word or two about the forgotten scenery in front of them every now and then, and Harry feels rather happy. He knows it's risky, knows there's so many things that could go wrong and positively ruin whatever him and Louis have, but he needs to hold on to this thread of something that he can still reach. He just has to.

–

As they’re making their way back to the hotel, Harry spots a barber’s shop in the corner of one narrow street. The window reads that it’s basically a walk-in shop where you can get your hair done without an appointment. A thought flickers through his mind as he grabs Louis’ arm, making him stop.

”What is it, love?” The older follows Harry’s line of gaze, his eyes widening a tad as his delicate face blanches. ”You’re not thinking about a haircut, are you?”

Harry turns to meet Louis’ gaze and shrugs. ”I might be.”

The look of horror on the older’s face is amusing, but at the same time Harry wonders where it stems from. He raises his brows in question and Louis stutters, pointing towards the building, waving his hand aimlessly. The man seems a little upset, to say the least. ”Is it safe? Like, are they professionals, and stuff.”

”And stuff?” The taller smiles, confused, as he glances towards the small shop. ”It looks pretty legit to me.”

Louis’ brows furrow as he nods and basically chants the word ’ _yeah_ ’, his voice high-pitched and uncertain. Harry takes a step closer to the man, locking their gazes. ”What is it?”

The older blinks away, turning his gaze to the ground, letting out an uneasy chuckle. ”You’re going to think I’m so weird, aren’t you,” he mutters under his breath.

”No. Why would I?” Harry shakes his head and prompts the other to tell him what’s going on.

”I,” Louis’ lips quirk up, just a little, ”Kind of like your hair, a lot. It’s long and soft, quite dashing, I think.” He shrugs to appear more nonchalant, but his tone is sincere, making Harry smile from ear to ear.

He glances at the barber’s shop again, knows that he won’t back down now, he wants to cut his hair, but at the same time feels for Louis, thinks that the man is being completely adorable. ”I’m flattered, Lou,” Harry says as earnestly as he possibly can, and then he gives the older’s arm a gentle stroke.

Louis faces him again and his disappointed eyes tell Harry that he knows the hair is going to get cut off. ”Can I – and don’t think I’m a creep, but can I, touch it, before you do the unthinkable?”

There’s sarcasm in the older’s voice, but Harry knows he’s not joking. He offers the smaller a dimpled smile along with a nod, and despite his hesitation at voicing out his thoughts, Louis doesn’t waste time stepping closer and placing his right hand right at the nape of the taller’s neck. Unsurprisingly, a shiver runs down Harry’s spine, while the other’s hand travels up his scalp, fingers brushing at his skin lightly, sending electric shocks through the taller’s whole body.

Harry’s eyes fall shut, Louis’ gentle hand massaging and exploring, bringing a new sense of euphoria over the younger. ”It’s soft,” Louis nearly whispers, his perfect accent wrapping around the words, ”And so _curly_.”

Harry manages a laugh at that, forcing his heavy lids to open and meet Louis’ darkened, blue eyes. The older’s lips are pressed together, his black pupils blown and Harry almost dares to think that he knows this look, he’s seen it before. Not on Louis, necessarily, but on so many other men, and it makes him feel hot and bothered. Harry knows his tongue is darting out to lick his lips, he knows his eyes are hooded and his cheeks are starting to feel a little warm, too.

Before he manages to detach himself from the situation, however, Louis pulls his hand to himself, painfully slowly. Harry lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and closes his eyes for the briefest of moments. ”All done?”

The older tilts his head, his expression faux-thoughtful, before he smacks his lips. ”No, but I will never have enough time with them anyway. Let’s just go and get it over with.”

Louis’ voice is dramatic, though the corner of his mouth is pulling up by default as he takes Harry’s hand and leads them to the shop. It’s every bit as small as it had looked from the outside, and Harry kind of loves it already. The right wall is all mirror, two chairs placed in front of it for the haircuts. There’s also a sink at the back wall, pretty close to the counter that’s decorated with candy canes, creating sort of a Christmas-y vibe. No humans can be seen, though, so Harry clasps his hands behind his back and starts rocking on his feet, wondering what exactly should he do with his over-grown hair.

Louis heads straight for the couch that’s placed near the window and picks up one of the _Cosmopolitan_ s lying on the table. Harry raises his eyebrows at the man. ”I didn’t know you read Cosmo.”

The older gives him a pointed look from behind the magazine, from under his brows. ”I don’t.”

 

Harry lifts his hands up, a small grin on his lips, just as someone emerges from somewhere from the back of the shop. The man seems pleased to be met with people, his expression brightening up immediately. ”Ah, bonjour. Êtes-vous ici pour une coupe de cheveux?”

”Hello, hi,” Harry waves, taking a leap forward. ”Do you speak English?”

”Yes, yes, of course,” the man nods, leaning on the counter. ”What can I do for you?”

Harry points towards the window with his thumb. ”I understood that this is a walk-in barbershop?”

”Yes,” the man nods again. ”You’re here for one?”

Harry nods with a smile. ”Right this way, then.”

The younger sits in one of the chairs as the French man compliments his hair, how well it’s been taken care of and how much he loves natural curls. Harry’s attention slips to Louis, whom he can see from the mirror, but the older’s immersed in his phone now, texting someone. He tries not to feel too neglected, tries to avoid the embarrassing feeling of being stranded from creeping in to his mind, and turns his attention back to the barber.

”What do you want to do with it?”

Harry looks at his reflection, his slightly angular face framed by long, brown, curly locks. He’s been growing out his hair for several years now and it’s taken him quite a while to get where he is now. On one hand it’s a shame to let go of it, but on the other hand the time feels right, somehow. He fiddles with the ends of his locks, his eyes darting to Louis, who’s still staring at the screen of his phone, and then back again. He considers himself for a moment longer, before nodding. ”I want it pretty short. Like, the length of my friend’s hair, but short enough so that I can style it up.”

The barber turns to look at Louis, snapping his fingers. ”Excuse me, sir,” Louis looks up, his eyes surprised. ”Hmm, okay. I can do that.”

”What?” Louis tries to meet Harry’s gaze through the mirror, but Harry just smiles to himself and keeps his eyes trained on himself in the mirror, telling the barber to begin when he’s ready.

–

Louis knows he’s crossed a thousand lines by now, if not only because Liam had told him as much, but because this shouldn’t even be a thing. This, him and Harry sitting on their hotel balcony, watching the sun set behind the Eiffel Tower, disappear to the other side of the world, leaving the stars to be their only friends, along with Paris city lights.

They have had more fun than is probably appropriate for someone who’s filed divorce papers mere days ago, but Louis can’t be bothered by it. Having made the final decision to leave Eleanor has opened tons of other doors in his mind, shed a different kind of a light on his and Harry’s relationship, too. Louis thinks it’s too late to back away now, even if he’d want to.

”Is it wrong that I feel really great just about now?” the older asks, tracking the people walking below them with his eyes.

Harry lets out a chuckle and Louis can see him shake his head in the corner of his vision. ”You’re in Paris. That alone should make you ecstatic.”

Louis hums and presses his lips together, knowing full-well Harry’s right. It’s not the city that’s making him happy though. ”Not to sound like a brat, but this city alone wouldn’t impress me.”

Cautiously he turns to look at his friend with meaningful eyes, who in turn seems taken a back, even though Louis isn’t quite sure why. The whole holiday, hell their whole relationship has been them flirting back and forth and it shouldn’t come as a monumental surprise to Harry that Louis might actually stand behind all the pretty words he’s uttered about the younger - and to him.

Harry’s lips settle into a bashful smile and he bites down on his lip. ”I’m flattered, but I’m sure it’s just those pretty lights shining on me.”

Louis raises his brows at the man and sighs. ”You really just can’t take a compliment, can you?”

The taller one’s eyes reflect something Louis hasn’t seen in a while, maybe last when they were spending his birthday at his mother’s house. It’s close to hesitation, but something deeper than that. Self-doubting maybe, Louis isn’t sure. It frustrates him that he’s not able to read Harry as well as Harry is able to read him, despite the younger claiming otherwise. At the same time, their complexity is what makes their relationship what it is. Louis has to communicate to get to the bottom of what the other is thinking. So far it has worked in their favour, he supposes.

”I’m serious, Harry,” Louis’ voice is a lot softer this time, his lips in a subtle smile, his eyes trained on the younger. ”It’s not the lights, not the city. Just you.”

Harry licks at his lips and visibly swallows. ”I,” the other looks away and then at Louis again, his eyes searching. ”I don’t know if this is wise, Louis.”

All this time they’ve known each other Louis has seen Harry as a carefree guy with the greatest intuition he’s ever met. Even more so, Harry has always struck Louis as an impulsive person, someone who acts first and wonders if it was the right thing to do after. Louis has always admired that about him and the hesitation he’s getting now makes Louis think that maybe he has read the signals wrong, too.

”Yeah, obviously,” the older coughs, turning his gaze away towards the city again, somehow trying to hide his disappointment. ”It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Harry fidgets in his chair, turning to face Louis with his whole body, his brows knitted together and his lips turned downwards. ”I don’t think you understand what I mean. It’s not about me not _wanting to_ do, whatever it is that you are saying we should do, but, like, you’re still married, Lou.”

”That’s what this is about?” Louis can’t quite believe Harry, can’t really understand how a piece of paper that soon will hold no importance whatsoever can be that one thing to come between them.

Harry nods, however, his expression troubled. ”She wasn’t someone you loved, maybe, but I just don’t think we should, well,” the younger tries to convey his feeling through his eyes, but Louis doesn’t understand, of course he doesn’t.

”We should what?”

Harry lets out a noise between a laugh and groan and rubs his hands together. ”Sometimes you can be really daft, Louis.”

Louis offers him a crooked smile, which Harry responds to with a smile of his own. ”Okay. Um. You should live now that you can. Do things you want to, with people, _multiple_ people, see life and experience things. And I, I don’t think I can be a notch in your belt. Let alone lose this relationship we have over one night.”

It takes the older several moments to process Harry’s words, another thirty seconds to actually grasp the meaning behind them and only then the confusion hits. ”What on earth are you fool on about?”

Harry seems surprised, but Louis doesn’t give him the chance to ask anything. ”I have no desire to go collecting ’notches in my belt’, Harry. Bloody ’ell, I don’t get you sometimes. And _you’re_ calling _me_ daft?” The older shakes his head. ”I’m a bit disappointed that you would think I’m like that, to be honest,” Louis looks away, down at his fingers where there’s now an empty ring-finger, marks of the silver-band still showing on his skin. ”Everyone thought I’d cheat on El with you. From the very first moment.”

Louis doesn’t dare to look at Harry, doesn’t dare because he’s afraid. He promised he’d talk more about his feelings, about his thoughts to the other, but bringing up things that had kind of been there, all around them, all this time they’ve known each other is no easy task. Facing the fact that the longing Louis has been feeling for months now wasn’t just that of a friend’s, but so much more. It scares the living shit out of him, but what terrifies him to his very core, is that Harry might actually not feel the same.

”They did?” The taller’s voice is unbelieving, confused even. ”I mean, I got the feeling we’re not ordinary friends, but everything about us is so unconventional. I kept waiting for the day I wouldn’t hear from you anymore, kept preparing myself for that. I guess I was too busy worrying about that to even think about something like, I don’t know, romantic feelings. Or maybe I didn’t want to, even if they existed.”

The older lifts his gaze an inch, studying Harry’s profile from under his brows. The man seems flustered, his eyes blinking. ”That’s the thing, though, innit.”

Harry turns to look at Louis properly. ”What is?”

Louis straightens up, clears his throat and elaborates with gesturing between the two of them. ”We didn’t think about feelings. Both just kept worrying about the other going away because we felt comfortable around each other, but everything else seemed to kind of stand in the way, you know.”

The younger hums, a small smile grazing his lips. ”You may be right. I sure as hell have wasted more than enough time doing that. Worrying.” Harry’s eyes flicker to his right, before settling on Louis again. ”But I do feel like I’m obligated to tell you something.”

The older raises his brows, curiosity peeking through. ”Yeah?”

Harry lets a nervous laugh slip past his lips as he drags a hand through his short hair. ”I did think about the feelings, a little. But only a little, I promise.”

The left corner of Louis’ lips quirks up as he shakes with silent laughter. ”You’re saying that as if it’s the worst sin ever invented,” Harry offers him a shy smile at his words, ”It’s not like I _never_ thought about it, either. It just wasn’t always there, looming above me. Everything came to me so naturally. I don’t even know, to be honest.”

A moment of silence follows, both keeping their eyes trained on each other, Louis’ mind oddly peaceful for such a moment. But maybe that’s one thing he loves about Harry’s and his relationship, too. The calmness. From day one, they’ve never rushed with anything, never pushed towards something greater, better. Everything’s been building around them slowly, steadily, bringing the feeling of stability. Only now Louis really understands how much that has meant for their relationship, how much it has carried the whole thing since the beginning.

”Do you know why I never even thought about making a lover out of you, though?” Louis asks, his tone slightly playful, yet careful.

Harry’s lips automatically turn up a little, his dimples popping out. ”I’m not pretty enough?”

The older lets a small laugh fall from his mouth. He picks out a cigarette from his pack and lights it up. ”You’re pretty, alright,” he says, the killer dangling between his lips. ”No, but seriously.”

Louis takes a long drag, his eyes on Harry. ”See, lovers rarely stay, right. With you, I knew right away, ever since the airport, that I want to keep you around. You’re a vibrant person, Harry. And even though I felt this, insane burning electricity inside me whenever I got to be with you, it was never the fleeting kind, you know. I didn’t want a lover, I wanted a person next to me.”

Harry’s leaning back in his chair, his green orbs lit up like Louis’ Marlboro, a strand falling out of his previously styled hair. He looks young, his lips plump and jawline sharp, and Louis can feel this inexplicable urge to kiss the man, rising inside him. He wills it down for now, but basks in the enjoyable twirl in his stomach.

”I know,” Harry eventually nods, his gaze wandering a little, wavering. ”You’re vibrant, too, just FYI. I know you don’t think so, but you don’t get to see what I see.”

”Subtle way to walk around my monumental speech there, Styles,” Louis muses, the cigarette between his fingers as he licks his lips, nervous.

Harry throws him a small grin. ”I do that, sometimes,” he shrugs, ”When I’m nervous. I, um, know the feeling, though. You’re sort of like a magnet, but instead of pulling me in quickly, harshly, uh, you just, kind of like, worked your way around me, if that makes sense? Yet I was so hooked from the first moment, as well.”

Louis can’t help the sheepish smile spreading on his lips at Harry’s words, can’t help feeling happy and bashful. It’s like being twenty again, he thinks. ”Yeah, yeah. I know, ’s weird.”

”We’re weird,” Harry concludes, his eyes twinkling.

”I quite like that, though.”

”Definitely.”

They’re grinning like a couple of idiots at each other and Louis is eternally happy he hadn’t cast Harry out of his life at any point, even when he felt like he was being judged by everyone around him, like he was a criminal for having a relationship with the other in the first place. He knows better, after all. Harry’s not just anyone, never has been and never will be.

”A while back I told Abbie you’re my soulmate,” Louis admits, throwing the butt of his cigarette out. ”Not in a romantic way necessarily, just, you know. Meant to be.”

”I thought you didn’t believe in fate,” Harry points out.

”Meh, I can make exceptions for stuff like this,” the older grins, nudging the other with his foot.

Harry chuckles, biting down on his lower lip. ”I know there’s, like, tons of stuff to be figured out. And that we’re not really in the best place for anything to happen,” the taller pushes his hair back, his eyes darting to Louis’ ring-finger, ”But, I really like you, Louis. A lot.”

Louis feels overwhelmed, like his cup is full and it’s bloody ridiculous because literally everything in his life is fucked up just about now, but he does feel happy. He reaches out for Harry’s hand and pulls the younger up to stand with him. ”The timing will never be right, so we don’t wait around for that, H. Life’s short, much like meself, and we’re in Paris.”

”Are you trying to say, um, that you maybe like me too?” Harry’s voice is still a little uncertain underneath the sarcasm and laughter.

Louis rolls his eyes. ” _Definitely_ like you, too.”

Some would say it’s a movie-like scene. They’re in France, on a balcony, the sun gone and the sky dotted with hundreds and then hundreds of stars. Their teeth clank together a little and their noses probably bump, too, and it’s in no way a picture-perfect kiss, but Louis’ insides are twisting and his heart is fluttering like a butterfly in his chest, and even though he’ll never admit it out loud, he’ll forever remember how Harry’s large hand feels against the small of his back.

Harry is the beam of sunlight on a cold winter morning. That beam you haven't seen in weeks and then it appears from absolutely nowhere to brighten up the rest of your week. Only Harry has brightened up his life for far longer now. Louis really has never been much of a romantic, but there's this moment when it all kind of clicks. Like puzzle pieces or the blocks in Tetris. Kind of like when you realise you're actually capable of doing something you never thought you could. The same way when Louis had understood he actually can whistle, despite thinking otherwise for his whole life.

He's not a romantic, but Harry's done something to him. He's made Louis feel so many things he hasn't felt in years. Emotions he thought he had forgotten for the great eternity. Harry has made Louis go off the rails in the best kind of way. He's pushed Louis out of the bubble of his dead boring job that he never wanted and he's made Louis realise he’d been married to a woman that he no longer loved.

All this, without touching him. Harry's reached him with his words and actions, his expressions and emotions. He's captured Louis, but at the same time Louis has walked in to his arms willingly, knowingly. And now Harry’s claiming him by touching him.

His lips are soft against Louis’, slightly rougher ones, wavering. Louis can feel the trembling under his hand, but he’s not sure if it’s entirely Harry. All the build up emotions are spilling over, Louis’ chest feels tight with yearning and satisfaction. He’d never really dared to think this might actually happen. Their lips move in sync, more or less, Louis’ hand burying in Harry’s hair as he pulls the younger _closer, closer, closer_ , until they’re against each other from head to toe. They fit, Louis thinks, as he finally pulls away, just the tiniest bit so that he can still feel Harry’s breath against his damp lips.

Breathing heavy, Louis looks at the man standing in front of him, his eyes hooded and his stomach in all kinds of twists and turns. ”Well, there’s that. No going back now, ’s there.”

”Has there ever been?”

Harry’s expression is soft, loving, and Louis wants to yell it from the rooftops, tell the whole damn world he’s finally made it here, on this side of happiness. He can’t do that, so he whispers it instead. ”I’m happy, Harry.”

The younger hums, pleased, a smile on his red-bitten lips. ”Makes two of us.”

Louis’ hand lingers at the nape of Harry’s neck, fiddling with his hair, their eyes locked. A nervous thrumming in Louis’ chest sends electric waves through his body, but he’s hesitant to do anything more, hesitant to cross the absolute final line he had so clearly drawn between them in his mind.

Harry’s right hand comes up to cup Louis’ cheek as his green orbs bore into Louis’ soul, positively making Louis shiver. ”I’m running out of cheesy lines, Lou,” the man mumbles, his lips twitching a little, but there’s a hint of frustration in his voice.

”Maybe toss ’em then?” Louis says, a breathy laugh following.

The younger licks his lips, his pupils are dilated like Louis has never seen them before. ”No rushing, right? We, um, don’t do things like that, you and me.”

”Maybe just a little bit, though,” the older suggests, his voice a tad higher than usual.

Harry’s lips turn into a slight grin, but his eyes are searching Louis’ face. The moment shouldn’t feel monumental, later on it probably won’t, but it has been quite a while since Louis has felt this kind of a want inside of him. The feeling is amplified by the fact that it’s Harry causing all this ruckus inside his head, making his body so responsive.

The mood around them is filled with excitement, yet the traces of yesterday’s worries keep lifting their heads, reining down some of Louis’ initial ways of acting. ”I’ll make you a deal.”

Harry raises his eyebrows in curiosity, leaning just a tad back, his arm tight around Louis’ waist.

”Tonight we only talk about tonight,” Louis lets his hand trace down along Harry’s back.

Something close to fear flashes in the other’s eyes as he worries his lower lip between his teeth. ”So, a one-time thing after all?”

”No, no,” Louis rushes. ”What I mean is that we don’t worry about tomorrow. Or about yesterday, for that matter. We both know this will bring some challenges, whatever this is, but let’s not think about it tonight.”

Harry relaxes at the words, the crease in his brows easing as he surges forward without much warning, capturing Louis’ lips. The older squeals, not proudly, as his hands hold on tighter on the younger. Everything kind of just disappears from around them, the world narrows down to just the two of them, and Louis is fairly certain no scenery or city could ever top the feeling he has now. No amazing concerts or any other thing Louis has once considered to be the best feeling in the whole wide world. It’s like walking into a cold lake in June, the water freezing half of your body, but at the same time it sends this furious thrill down your spine. It’s nothing like Louis expected.

It’s a play of two people who have so much to give they might burst. Louis pours all of his previously frozen feelings into Harry, sliding his tongue into the younger’s mouth. Nothing’s hasty, weirdly enough, as Harry rucks up Louis’ t-shirt, his warm palm splaying on the smaller’s barely-there abs. Louis pushes the other towards the balcony door, towards the dim of their hotel room and the huge cloud-like bed. Their lips are constantly chasing each other in slow moves, their hands trying to conquer all the little skin they can find, and Louis’ body is buzzing. Harry feels muscular and steady under his hands, but it’s not enough as the demanding urge keeps calling its shots.

Louis starts unbuttoning the see-through silky shirt he’s been staring all day long with lusty eyes and his fingers fumble with nervous energy. Their lips fall away long enough for Harry to pull Louis’ shirt over his head and discard his own top. For a brief second they stop to take a breath, Louis licks at his lips, and then he pulls Harry closer again, stopping just before their lips meet. Harry’s lids are half-closed, his lashes trembling as Louis lets his breath ghost over the younger’s raw mouth.

”Slow, yeah?”

Harry nods and Louis locks their mouths again, pushing the taller one towards the bed again. Harry’s stomach is considerably harder than Louis’ and it sends an excited jolt through the older’s body, as he pushes the man on the mattress, climbing on top of him. His nails rake the other’s chest, carefully, slowly, leaving behind a trail of prickling.

Their mouths move together languidly, yet passionately, the atmosphere warm and safe. It’s like finding a new world, kissing Harry. It’s nothing Louis imagined it would be, but at the same time it’s everything he could’ve ever hoped for, as ridiculous as that sounds. Harry’s hands are everywhere on Louis, on his back and his chest, at the nape of his neck and then his thumb’s pushing Louis’ lower lip gently. The older can physically feel it in his body, the way his senses fill with Harry. His muscles tremble without his consent and a small, pleased noise leaves his throat.

”You’re absolutely beautiful, Haz,” he mutters against the younger’s lips, his hand stroking Harry’s cheek, their eyes locked.

Harry’s flushed red, his whole torso a pleasing colour of pink as Louis travels his hand on it. He leans down, kissing right above the bigger swallow and making his way down, dipping his tongue out every now and then to lick a stripe on the man’s gorgeous body. Louis’ fingertips are tingling as he slowly pulls Harry’s pants down, the tight jeans getting stuck with every tug, erupting soft giggles out of both men. Louis takes his time ridding the remainder of their clothes, his eyes raking Harry’s divine being now that he’s allowed to. The man has lovely little love handles on both of his hips and Louis takes a hold of them as he finally attaches their lips again, after what has felt like a day.

He can feel Harry’s erection rubbing against him, a warm feeling circulating in his own stomach, too. The younger’s big palms travel down Louis’ sides teasingly slow as he hums against the older’s lips, nibbling on the lower one. Their movements are still slow, both trying to get to know the other’s body. In every single kiss and touch Louis can feel that damn longing that’s been there since that time in Liverpool, under the streetlight.

”I fucking need you,” he whispers into Harry’s ear, his voice surprisingly husky even to his own ears.

Harry moans – it’s quiet but it’s there, and then he grabs Louis’ face in between his hands. The want is so clear in his eyes, Louis feels a little dizzy, his own lips parted the same way Harry’s are. ”You can’t tease me about this and you can’t tell me I’m presumptuous,” the taller says as he pushes Louis away from him and climbs out of the bed.

He goes to his luggage and rummages through it for a while, before pulling out a condom and a travel-sized package of lube. He traipses back to Louis and throws the items at him, both landing in front of the older, his eyebrows raised. ”You know I’m dying to call you presumptuous.”

Harry gives him a glare. ”You’re not allowed to. End of discussion.”

Louis can’t help the laugh escaping him as he pulls the other close again, pecking his lips twice, his thumb caressing Harry’s soft cheek. ”Fine. Can I fuck you now?”

The younger’s lashes flutter at Louis’ words, his head falling down against the other’s chest. ” _Louis_ ,” he whines, his lips touching the older’s skin, sending pleasant shivers down his body.

”Come here, love,” he speaks softly, pulling Harry next to him, rolling the man onto his back, before climbing on top of him again.

”I’m going to die tonight, aren’t I,” Harry’s tone is dreadful, but amused as his green eyes keep tracking Louis’ hands, lube pouring on to them.

Louis chuckles, scooting back a little, making room in between Harry’s legs as he pushes them open. ”I certainly hope you won’t. Would make this a bit morbid, I reckon.”

 

_[Pentatonix - Hallelujah](https://open.spotify.com/track/550rQQCGkrTzvp4SfpOPzx) _

 

The laugh that was about to escape the other’s lips dies on his lips as Louis gently strokes Harry’s hole, his blue eyes enjoying the way the younger’s brows rise up. He tentatively pushes one finger past the rim, slowly until it’s in up to a knuckle. ”Haven’t done this in a while. I’m sorry if it hurts, darling,” he offers the man an apologetic smile.

Harry shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. ”It’s you, I’ll be ecstatic anyway,” he breathes out and Louis can’t help leaning in, biting down on Harry’s abdomen, hard enough to leave a mark there.

He works Harry open slowly, his lips mapping out every single bit of skin he can reach from his position. Louis bites him in places that make the younger turn and twist, he licks down his shaft as he pushes the second finger in and he lets his rather long stubble leave a nice beard burn down Harry’s perfect thighs as the third finger slips in. Every single little reaction he gets out of the man making his own cock twitch, begging to be touched. Louis doesn’t let Harry, though, wants to feel all the sensations at once, wants to feel like he’s going to pass out, because he knows Harry will be _that good_. The whimpers falling from Harry’s lips are desperate and Louis can see how white the younger’s knuckles are from fisting the sheets.

”Think you can take me, now?” he rasps, his voice gone low from the arousal, his eyes trained on the man spread open under him.

” _Yes_ , fuck yes,” Harry pries his eyes open, his hooded emeralds staring at Louis, ” _Please_.”

Louis chokes back a moan at the sinful expression on the younger’s face and swiftly slips his lube covered fingers out of him. Harry rips open the condom, eagerly rolling it down on the older’s pre-come smeared cock. Louis has to take a moment to calm his beating heart, his trembling fingers pushing Harry’s legs up enough to give him some leverage. He lets his hand travel down the taller’s chest once more, the moth under his palm rising with every breath Harry takes. Their eyes lock and Louis leans in for one more kiss.

Harry’s back arches as Louis pushes inside him, slowly. His hands are pressed against the man’s strong hips, and he can feel his jaw tightening at the burning feeling that consumes his whole body. Harry is hot and tight around him and Louis has to exhale sharply as his head drops against the other’s sweat covered chest. There's a soft, building vibration traveling through Louis' body, pushing everything irrelevant away from his mind, stuffing the thoughts into a box somewhere there, messily, but still.

”Fuck,” he hisses, his hands squeezing Harry’s hips.

”Just move,” Harry chokes out, pushing against Louis impatiently.

The older inhales, lifting his head. His other hand travels up Harry’s chest, over the birds on his chest and then back again to the pretty moth displayed on his stomach. The man looks divine, his lips apart, eyes hooded and tousled hair framing his angular face.

Louis pulls out a little and dives back in, a bit more forcefully this time. His hips pick up a steady pace, driving in to Harry, who keeps gasping, his palms fisting on the sheets, still. Louis’ right hand comes up to stroke Harry’s thigh as he lets his eyes study the wrecked expression on the younger’s face. Everything’s blurred around them, Louis feels weak in his knees as Harry mouths around his name, silently and then louder.

”Let me,” Harry gasps, ”Let me ride you, please.”

A jolt travels through the older, his skin burning with Harry’s words. Easily they swap positions, Louis lying on his back and Harry sitting a top of him. His green eyes are big, filled with emotion as he adjusts himself on top of Louis. His hands come to rest on Louis’ chest, his fingers trembling the tiniest bit as he traces Louis’ tattoo.

Their eyes meet, unsaid words flying between them, and then Harry leans closer, his voice thick with feelings as he whispers against Louis’ ear: ”I’ll take care of you like she never did.”

All the air is punched out of the older as Harry raises his hips and drops down, repeating the movement again and then again. His eyes try to fall shut, but he forces them open, unable to leave the sight unseen. Harry’s lids are half-closed, his teeth biting down on his lower lip as he keeps sinking down on Louis. The older’s hands move to the other’s hips, stroking them, trying to keep his concentration, but it’s nearly impossible with the other man’s soft noises and the lazy movements of his hips.

Carefully, Louis’ hips start meeting Harry’s, pushing deeper, pleasure rippling through the older man’s muscles. They move slowly, each thrust deeper and more powerful, filled with all the pain they’ve been through, but also with all the joy, trust and something akin to love. It’s slow, but intense. All-consuming like the summer heat in Los Angeles. Harry’s everywhere. Louis’ ears are filled with those perfect little sounds, moans and muttering. The words Harry is uttering are burned on to Louis’ skin, and his hands– his hands are grasping Harry’s hips, pressing onto them, feeling how Harry’s muscles move underneath the sweaty skin.

Louis raises himself up, so that he’s able to round his arms around Harry, leave traces of kisses on the man’s slick chest. Harry’s quivering hand rakes through Louis’ damp hair, pulling back so that he’s able to kiss the older, deep and sloppy. Louis can feel himself melting against this heavenly, sweet creature, their bodies working in sync.

” _God,_ you’re perfect,” he pants against the taller’s lips, earning a small, breathy laugh from Harry.

The other sinks down harder, pulling a strangled moan out of Louis, his hands holding on tighter, probably leaving bruises on to the sinful hips of his lover. They are both breathing heavily, unsteadily, hands are roaming and lips and teeth are meeting in a never-ending game of tag and Louis feels infinite. He honest to God feels like there’s no limits.

”I know we agreed on slow,” Harry breathes out, groaning, ”but just –”

” _Faster_.”

All Louis can see is _white, white, white_ and all he can smell is _Harry, Harry, Harry_ , his senses heightened. Harry pushes him down again, supporting himself against Louis’ chest as he lets his hips work up a faster pace, moans falling from his lips like a chant, Louis’ name like a curse by now.

The older’s hand comes to stroke Harry’s cock as the man’s rhythm becomes sloppier and sloppier, eventually disappearing altogether. The younger’s arms are trembling, struggling to support his upper-body and Louis can’t comprehend anything anymore, the words falling from Harry’s lips just a foreign language, the only thing clear in Louis’ vision is the way the other’s head is thrown back, his expression nearly frustrated as he bites down hard on his plump, red lip.

From there, it doesn’t take long for Louis to tip over the edge, everything around him dissolving in to pleasure, hot, white pleasure. He can vaguely feel Harry collapse on top of him, the other’s palms holding on to his shoulders. Louis’ brain is completely empty, not a single thought surfacing as his chest rises with heavy breaths. His hand finds its way to Harry’s sweaty hair, drowning into them.

The younger whimpers, letting out a small cough. Exhausted, Louis pulls out of the pliant man, earning a noise of protest at the movement. In consolation, Louis starts stroking Harry’s back, drawing small circles on it, slowly gaining his awareness back. His body is relaxed, his muscles warm and everything’s very calm around them. The room smells like sex, Louis is sure, but he can’t be bothered, as he softly hums one of the songs he’s heard Harry singing from time to time.

 

_[James Bay - Incomplete](https://open.spotify.com/track/2cFWt6kXHjqVAvVnGgS8ET) _

 

Eventually, Harry lifts his head enough to prop his chin on top of Louis’ chest, and even though it’s a bit painful, Louis doesn’t point it out, entirely content having the man so close. ”Hi.”

The younger hums, pleased as he murmurs a response. Harry’s eyes are greener than before, bigger than before and he’s clearly satisfied, flushed with the feeling. Louis can relate to that, he thinks, as his fingers keep carding through the now short hair. ”If it had been longer, I’d had pulled it.”

Harry shakes with laughter, hiding his face behind his hand, peeking through one of the cracks between his fingers. ”Embarrassing, you are.”

”Am not,” Louis huffs, his voice fond. ”Stating the facts.”

”It’ll grow back,” Harry says, his dimples in place.

The thought warms Louis, the thought of getting to do this even when Harry’s hair has grown back. He doesn’t let his thoughts go that way, but instead steers them back to this night, this moment and all the bliss he’s feeling.

”I know you said not to think about yesterday, or the past, I mean,” Harry says, his voice low, ”But I wasn’t kidding, Lou.”

”About what?”

Harry’s eyes are sincere as his fingers keep touching Louis’ chest, dancing on his tattoo absentmindedly. ”I’ll take care of you, like she never did.”

A gentle smile makes its way on Louis’ lips, as he reaches to press a kiss against Harry’s forehead. ”Thank you, love.”

They lay in each other’s arms for several moments, mumbling about how ridiculous life is and how easy it would be to just forget the world even exists around them, how easy it would be to just stay here for the rest of their lives. Harry asks him about his tattoos, traces each and every one of them with his pointer finger, and Louis tells him the story about how he’d ended up in a tattoo parlor at four a.m. with Zayn, how he’d been drunk out of his ass and had told the artist to tattoo ’Bus 1’ on his arm, just because that’s the bus Louis would like to take to work, if he ever did. Zayn got the same tattoo a couple days later, just so Louis wouldn’t feel as bad about it.

”What’s your favourite one?” Harry asks, his hand splayed on Louis’ chest.

Louis inspects the scribbled art on his arms, pondering. ”I don’t know. Maybe the stag, for now.”

Harry turns his arm a little, taking a look at the deer on Louis’ bicep. It’s one of the first tattoos Louis got, maybe when he was around twenty or so. ”Why this one?”

”You don’t like it?” Louis raises his brows teasingly, ”I had absolutely no reason to get a tattoo at the time. Actually, most of my tattoos have no meaning at all, but the stag, I don’t know. It’s different. It took a whole bunch of hours to finish, I was exhausted by the end of it. I liked the feeling, I guess.”

The younger shifts to lie next to Louis, draping his legs over the older’s, humming. ”I get it. I’ve got those, too, a couple. The moth is one of them.”

”It’s pretty,” Louis says, his fingers ghosting above Harry’s naked stomach. ”I like all of your tattoos.”

Harry snorts. ”You’re such a cheesy person. It’s awful, really.”

”I know you like it,” Louis grins, pecking Harry’s lips.

The other smiles up at him, a loose strand of hair falling to his eyes that Louis pushes away. The clock must be way past eleven by now, but Louis doesn’t feel tired in the least bit, despite all the walking they’d done today. Harry’s eyes are gleaming under the light of the night lamp they have on and he looks absolutely gorgeous. Louis wonders how did he ever live without this.

”D’you remember when we talked about a person being comfortable?” Louis asks, after a while.

Harry nods, his hand coming to card Louis’ hair, for the tenth time that night. ”You’re that to me. Comfortable.”

”Just that?” Harry’s voice is teasing, but somewhere underneath there, he might actually mean it.

Louis turns on to his side, taking Harry’s other hand in his. ”No. That’s one of the many things you are to me. But isn’t being comfortable one of the greatest things to be?”

”How so?” Harry questions as his finger traces the lines in Louis’ palm. ”Isn’t it kind of like being friend-zoned?”

Louis shakes his head. ”I believe many people would associate ’comfortable’ with home. And maybe that’s the word I’m actually looking for. Home.”

Harry’s eyes turn to him, earnest and shaken, just a little bit as his lips fall open and he seems to struggle to get any words out. Louis kind of wishes he’d say nothing, though he’s not sure why exactly. Everything’s just so in place right now, he’s afraid to tilt the balance, maybe.

”Home,” the other repeats after a moment, tasting the word. ”I like it.” Harry smiles bashfully, looking away from Louis.

The air around them is like it’s never been before, which of course was to be expected. Whatever Louis and Harry have been up until now, they’re certainly not that anymore. The shift in their relationship, Louis wants to think it’s all positive, all good, and hopefully it is. But Louis is a worrier by nature, so even Harry’s beautiful, happy face isn’t quite enough to push away the looming dark cloud, that is the next day.

”Stop worrying,” the younger scolds. ”Wasn’t it you who told me not to think about the future or the past?”

Louis sighs, the corners of his lips pulling up. ”Sorry, sorry. I’ll try not to.”

Harry moves closer to him, placing his hand on top of his chest. ”You don’t regret it, though, do you?”

”I would never,” Louis shakes his head and the other man places a small kiss on his cheek.

Right then and there, Louis is quite sure he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his days like this, with Harry. The younger’s green eyes and tousled short hair, all of it, Louis would take all of it. And maybe it’s the pillowtalk and maybe they are both lulling themselves into a false feeling of content here, but that’s all they’ve got now, so it’ll have to do.

Besides, Louis thinks as he pulls Harry in for a kiss, things could be a lot worse.

 

\- **February 19th, Saturday (** _ **Paris)**_

Morning showers are usually the best place to clear his head, Harry has noticed. The cool water running down his shoulders, the sizzling noise of it hitting the back of his neck and eventually dripping on the floor, blocks out all the unnecessary noise from the outside world. And even more importantly, the noise of his thoughts.

This morning, however, Harry can’t seem to forget, or rather bypass, the events of the previous night. It was a game-changer, there’s no way around it. He’s happy, of course he is, but that doesn’t mean it’s good. Pushing away all thoughts about the future may have worked for one night, could possibly work even through this trip, but eventually they’d both have to face the consequences.

He shuts off the water, but stays still, staring down at the wet floor. He loves Louis. No way around that, it seems. With a heavy sigh he picks up his towel from the edge of the shower cube and moves in front of the mirror, drying his hair. The surface is all fogged up, so he wipes it to come face to face with himself. Louis’ bite marks are visible on his chest, a sweet reminder of what had happened.

Harry doesn’t want to feel bad, doesn’t want to stain what could be a start of something really great, but negative thoughts are lurking at the outskirts of his mind. Louis is, technically, divorced, but what about Abbie. What about everything they’ve worked for so far, what about Louis’ complicated life. _And what about Harry._ He wonders how is he supposed to navigate his way through all that.

A knock on the door jolts him in to move. ”Yeah?”

Louis’ head peeks in from the crack of the door, the smile on his lips diminishing the smallest bit, as his eyes land on Harry’s naked bum. Something akin to lust flashes in his blue orbs, before the smile is back. ”Abbie called. She’s on her way here and I thought maybe we should, you know, go over some stuff.”

Harry lowers his head for a mere second, before aiming Louis a smile through the mirror. ”Of course. Gimme a second.”

A more tight-lipped smile grazes Louis’ lips now. ”Sure. I’ll be in the living space.”

With that Louis leaves Harry in the bathroom, alone with his jumbled up thoughts. He leans against the counter, letting his gaze wander on the lovebites, purple and dark. ”You didn’t fuck up,” he whispers, meeting his own eyes through the foggy mirror.

The atmosphere had been lovely when Harry had woken up. Louis was still nuzzled up in his own pillow, snoring softly, his fringe falling to his pretty, delicate face. When he’d slowly blinked open his own eyes, for the first time Harry had understood what people mean when they say home is where your heart is, truly.Harry had been looking at something that he wished could become his home, for the rest of his life, and it was scary, but so, _so_ right.

When Louis had stirred awake under Harry’s gentle touch to his cheek, the first thing he’d done was give Harry a kiss. A verification that last night happened and it was real, pure, something no one could ever take away. So, Harry had been happy, all the way up until Louis had left to take a shower and the man’s phone had started ringing, the name of his lawyer flashing on the screen.

With much hesitancy, Harry dries himself and puts on some jeans and a black t-shirt, to cover up the marks. He styles his damp hair, aiming for something casually cool, but ending up with a tousled nest on top of his head. As he emerges to the living space, Louis is sipping on some tea, lounging on the fancy couch and reading something on his phone, amused tint in his eyes.

”’s that Liam?” Harry guesses, sitting next to the man, and raising his legs to place them on his lap.

”Mm,” Louis nods, ”He’s freaking out because some business partners are contacting him and he doesn’t know what to do. I quite like it when people feel helpless without me.”

The man smirks, earning a good-natured eye-roll from Harry. Louis abandons his phone and tea on the couch table and crawls closer to Harry, sitting on top of his lap. ”You’re already worrying, aren’t you?”

Harry lets his head fall on the backrest of the couch and sighs. ”That obvious?”

Louis pretends to ponder for a moment, before giving Harry a sympathetic look. ”I’m afraid so, love.”

The man adjusts himself on Harry, circling his arms around Harry’s neck, forcing him to lift his head, to properly meet Louis’ eyes. ”I should be the one doing that, not you. Look, Harry. There’s nothing wrong with what happened.”

Harry worries his lower lip between his teeth, looking up at Louis. ”I know there isn’t. We’re both grown-ups and blah, blah, blah. But what about your family? Our relationship?”

”Don’t you think those are things we should worry about when they’re actual things?” Louis raises his brows. ”Like I said, if we start waiting for the right moment, it’ll never come. I’m done waiting.”

The older’s eyes are soft, his voice low, as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss on Harry’s lips. Small butterflies flap against Harry’s stomach and he feels the tinge of happiness raising its head again. A slow smile makes its way on his lips by default, as Louis pulls away.

”Alright, I’m going to listen to you for once,” he nods, sighing.

”You always should,” Louis claims, ruffling the younger’s damp hair. ”Still. I don’t think we should let Abbie know just yet. She’s still processing mine and El’s divorce, so.”

Harry nods, completely understanding what Louis means. He wouldn’t want to shock the girl. ”I think so, too. Maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone yet?”

Louis considers Harry for a second, his eyes narrowed. ”What?”

”Are you ashamed of me?”

”No!” Harry squawks, tightening his grip around Louis. ”Never.”

The older hides his smile against Harry’s shoulder. ”Fine. I’m telling Li and Z.”

Harry rolls his eyes. ”Of course you are.”

”Liam would figure it out himself either way,” Louis defends, slowly standing up, with much difficulty. ”I’m not as graceful as I used to be.”

Harry suppresses a laugh, raising his brows. ”You’re plenty graceful.”

”Don’t mock me, Harold,” Louis warns with a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, ”Anyhow, are you okay with me telling the lads?”

”Yeah,” Harry nods, ”I think I need to tell Ed. And maybe Gemma.”

A look of horror flashes on Louis’ face as he leans in closer. ”Not her, Harry. She won’t leave me alone. Don’t get me wrong,” the older lifts his hands up in an act of surrender before Harry’s skeptical eyes, ”She’s a lovely lady, from what I’ve figured from talking to her. But the woman is relentless, Haz.”

Harry can’t hold his grin or laughter back as he pulls Louis in for another kiss. ”Fine, I get what you’re saying. No Gemma then. But you do know she’ll be even more relentless when she finds out that I didn’t tell her right away, right?”

Louis shrugs. ”We’ll deal with it then. Right now I don’t think I can handle that kind of pressure.”

The younger hums at that, completely understanding where Louis is coming from. He’s fairly certain that Lottie would act much the same way if she were to know and Louis is right about the pressure. Harry doesn’t need that either, not right now.

”Right then. Should we order some breakfast?” The older suggests, pulling Harry up from the couch. ”Abbie should be back any minute now.”

”Yeah,” the other nods, ”Sure.”

–

Abbie arrives to a full table of proper posh food, things like caviar and whatnot, but she doesn’t seem nearly as fazed as Harry had been when greeting the astonishingly preppy hotel staff who’d brought the said breakfast to them. She does seem refreshed, a lot more cheerful to Harry’s eye than she had the day before, when she’d left to go to her friend’s house. ”Have you oldies even done anything while I was gone?” She’d rolled her eyes at them, planting herself around the table.

Harry was pleasantly surprised how well he’d managed to keep up a casual conversation with the girl, despite last night’s events gnawing at his insides. Louis had also been an exemplary father, showing keen interest towards Abbie’s night away, chatting the morning happily away. It’s odd to think how even though everything’s changed, really nothing is. Louis’ touches make Harry feel warm the same as they did twenty-four hours ago, his laugh still tingles on the younger’s skin. And to Abbie, nothing’s different either.

”Alright, what’s the plan for the day?” the girl asks after Harry silently pushes his chair away to clean up the dishes, only to have Louis stop him by taking his hand gently, his brows furrowed.

”It’s our last full day,” the older says, hesitantly letting go of Harry’s hand, urging the man to sit down, and turning his gaze to Abbie. ”We could do some art galleries, if you’re up for that?”

Abigail’s eyes are full of something akin to amusement as she slowly nods. ”Why not. You’re always going on about educating myself, might as well.”

Harry’s lips quirk up at that and he has to elbow Louis softly, earning a soft-featured man’s smile in return. ”It _is_ important. I wouldn’t be here if I knew nothing about art or sports.”

Abbie rolls her eyes at that. ”Right, it’s all about the connections.”

”It is,” Louis insists, then turns to Harry, ”You okay with that, love?”

”Yeah,” Harry agrees easily, ”Should we get going right away?”

There’s a small moment where the two men can’t tear their eyes away from each other, and Harry’s not sure if it’s that or the endearment Louis had used when talking to him, but he’s almost certain there’s an entertained glint in the girl’s blue orbs when the younger man meets her gaze. She does a small gesture with her hand, like a wave or something alike, as if she’s expecting someone to explain, but since neither of the men are saying anything, she just nods, twice.

”Okay,” her tone’s amused, ”I want to change my clothes first, though,” Abbie informs, getting up, ”Meet me in the lobby in, say, ten?”

Harry glances over to Louis, wondering if the older had picked up on the things in Abbie’s behaviour Harry thinks he had, but the other man’s just smiling at his daughter. Nothing implicates he’d noticed anything.

”Or maybe in fifteen,” the girl adds, suddenly, her voice bordering on laughing now, ”Yeah. Fifteen.”

This time even Louis looks a bit bemused, furrowing his brows at the girl, but he nods nevertheless. ”Sure, munchkin. Whatever you want.”

–

The day doesn’t turn out to be nearly as awkward as Harry had imagined and he finds himself actually enjoying it quite a bit when they eventually stop for a late lunch. Louis has been giving him subtle touches all day long, making him feel valued in a way Harry doesn’t remember feeling in a long time. Abbie’s been surprisingly excited, properly attempting to make a connection with Harry, too. She’s been trying to find joint interests all day long and they had actually bonded over the modern art they saw. It left Harry feeling slightly better than he’d felt this morning in the shower.

The bistro they’re currently at isn’t half-bad either and Harry likes to think his positivity isn’t entirely linked to the fact that he’s actually in Paris and, well, in love. It’s eerily easy to talk with these two and Harry’s pretty sure it’ll never stop amazing him. All in all, he thinks he can say it’s been a successful trip so far.

They’re in the middle of a heated discussion about Picasso, when Louis’ phone rings, interrupting Abbie’s rant. ”Ah, sorry,” the oldest apologises as he takes his phone from the pocket of his jeans and excuses himself from the table.

”Wonder what’s that about,” Harry hums, more to make conversation than anything.

”Probably Liam,” Abbie says, finishing her plate, ”Work call, either way.”

Harry takes a look at Louis, whose expression is somewhat distraught and annoyed. ”You think so?”

The girl nods, sighing. ”Pretty sure. It always is.”

After a moment the older man returns to them and Harry can already see he’s going to apologise for something, his brows furrowed. ”That was Liam, and, well, I need to do some work.”

Abbie doesn’t seem surprised at all, just asks what’s so important this time. Harry can see the girl’s question hurts Louis and he only wishes he could say something to make the older feel better about it, or make Abbie feel better about it, do _something_ about it, but he deems it better not to interfere. ”It’s one of our biggest partners and he just so happens to be in Paris for today and tomorrow. Liam hadn’t been able to talk him out of it and now he wants to meet me.”

The older is clearly disappointed, his mouth set to a frown. ”I’m really sorry, bub. Playing golf with some senile man is the last thing I want to do right now, but, you know.” Louis shrugs helplessly.

”I get it, dad,” Abbie sighs, but offers a small smile to her father in consolation, ”It’s okay. We’ll go shopping or something with Harry. We’ll have fun, I’m sure.”

”Yeah,” Harry pipes in, aiming an encouraging smile at Louis. ”It’s unfortunate but we’ll manage.”

”Yeah? You sure?” the man looks at the both of them, and it truly pains Harry to see how torn Louis is about this. ”I promise I’ll escape as soon as possible.”

Before he goes, Louis bends down to hug Abbie and to give her a kiss on the cheek. He picks up his jacket and leans in to hug Harry as well. ”I’m sorry, love,” he whispers against the younger’s ear and when he pulls away his eyes are sad, his whole body radiating the feeling of upset.

”We’ll be fine,” Harry says, tearing his eyes away from the older to look at Abbie, ”We’ll do a picnic. I’ve always wanted to.”

Abbie raises her brows, the expression on her face amused. ”It’s kinda cold outside, though.”

”It’s okay, we’ll sit close to each other,” Harry shrugs, grinning, before turning back to Louis, ”Just go. And try to be back as soon as you can. We’ll miss you.”

Louis’ lips pull into a smile and really that’s all Harry wanted to see. ”I’ll try me best,” the other nods, ”See you later, then.”

As the man disappears from the bistro, his lunch only half-eaten, Harry can physically feel a part of him being ripped away. He gazes after Louis, wondering if it’ll always feel like this from here on. Will it feel like needles in his heart to spend one minute apart from each other for the rest of his days. The thought scares Harry.

”He’ll be back you know,” Abbie’s slightly amused voice cuts through Harry’s thoughts, ”But you should take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

A blush creeps on the older’s cheeks as he coughs into his fist. ”Right. I know that,” he nervously laughs, ”Uh. I just, well,” Harry gestures towards the door helplessly, until Abbie seems to take pity on him and completely changes the subject with a bright laugh.

Even then, Harry can’t shake the massive void inside him from conquering his thoughts bit by bit.

–

Even though it's only 10 or so degrees, the weather isn't exactly windy. It's not really the picnic in Paris that Harry has dreamed of since he was nine years old, but rather a cold bench and some French bread in a park that the winter has stripped from its life. Even still, Harry is enjoying himself. They've been conversing about college for the past forty minutes and Abbie seems to be pleased she can ask questions from someone who went to a one not that long ago.

"Well, I'm just happy dad gave me a green light on Cambridge," the girl hums, her gaze somewhere else, as well as her mind.

Harry nods understandingly. "Yeah. College was cool. Don't know if I'd been able to do it so far away from my folks though."

The girl turns to look at Harry, something akin to disappointment in her eyes. "You saw how it is with dad. He's always working, even on holidays. Wouldn't make much of a difference." She shrugs, nonchalant, but something in her posture tells the other this isn’t something the girl actually is okay with.

"Surely not always," Harry tries, tilting his head a little. An unpleasant feeling swims in his stomach all of a sudden. "Right?"

"Hate to break it to you, but I don't remember when was the last time we went on a holiday that he didn't have to leave in the middle of to take care of some work thing or another," Abbie smiles sympathetically at him.

Harry hasn't really thought about it that much before, the fact that Louis actually is a _busy_ businessman. He's known this, but never really grasped the whole level of it all. Sometimes it’s hard to get a hold of Louis, when he’s on the other side of the world, but other than that, it doesn’t affect Harry’s life on daily basis. But for Abbie it's different because she's always there, where as Harry's around only every now and then. It scares him a little, to let his mind wander and think about a possible future where him and Louis might share a life and the man would never be around.

"I've been getting the best parts then," Harry admits with a small, quiet laugh.

"I guess," the girl shrugs, "But it's all worth it in the end. It’s not like he’s the worst dad ever. When he's in town, he works extra-hard. I love him."

A smile tugs at the corners of Harry's lips as he thinks of Louis messing around with his daughter, being happy and carefree, a father. He can still remember how the older had looked on Christmas Eve with his family, so natural and bright, more so than ever before. "I admire him a lot for that, too. He's a good man. He tries."

"Couldn't agree more," Abbie nods, her eyes suddenly curious as she meets Harry's gaze. "You're a pretty special person to him, too. I can tell. He wants to include you in his life, like really wants to."

Heat rises on Harry's cheeks as he nervously laughs, rubbing at his neck. He's not sure if he should change the topic, if Louis would want them talking about this. "I'm glad to hear that."

There’s a contemplative expression on the girl’s face when she speaks next, her words slow and thought-through, clearly. ”Dad rarely befriends new people, he’s pretty shit at that. He’s so smooth with business partners and all that, but I think he’s kinda afraid to have new people in his life. He barely has time for the ones he has now, so, you know.”

Harry nods, knowing full-well how bad the older man sometimes feels about having to decline going to the pub or joining a game night with the lads, because of work or simply the fact that he’s so tired. At times Harry’s felt bad, too, wondering if he’s selfish for having all that time with the man. ”I know. And I’m flattered he gives me even some of his time,” he gives the girl a meaningful look, ”I still hope I’m not taking away the time from the two of you. Or from his other friends.”

Abbie shakes her head at that, ”You’re not. I don’t think so, at least,” she looks down at her hands, humming quietly, a small smile on her lips, ”And anyways. I wouldn’t mind that much. He’s happy when he’s with you. Like when you’ve talked on the phone, he’s just much more lighter, kinda? Just happy, I guess.”

The warmth in Harry’s cheeks doesn’t let up and he curses himself for being such an emotional person, tears threatening to brim in his eyes. He turns to look somewhere further away instead of at Abbie, a big, uninhibited smile forming on his lips. ”Yeah? He makes me happy, too,” he ducks his head, then, bashfully adding, ”I’m glad.”

There’s a moment of silence, comfortable albeit a little charged, somehow. When Harry raises his head, the girl is looking at him. She’s still smiling, that glint from the breakfast table back in her blue orbs.

"I'm not totally daft, you know," Abbie raises her brows at him, "Whatever it is that you are - or are not, none of my business - I'm cool with it. As long as dad's happy, I'm cool."

Months back Harry wouldn't have guessed that a teenage girl's opinion would mean this much to him. Or that words like the one’s Abbie’s just uttered would warm his heart like this. But they do. They run deep in Harry, so deep his heart stutters a little. "Thanks, Abbie. Means a lot to me."

The girl shrugs, casual as ever, and turns her gaze somewhere else, maybe indicating that the conversation is over. She looks a lot like Louis, but the curve of her cheek and her hair, they're a lot like her mother's, from what Harry can remember. "How are you? Like, in general?" The older asks, a small worry still smoldering inside him, reminding him that despite her wise words, the girl’s still just a teenager.

Abbie hums, wonderingly. "I'm okay, I guess." She takes a breath, though, as if she's not quite sure. "I mean, it's not ideal, the situation at home. That's what you're talking about, right?"

Harry simply nods.

"Mum's still living with us, even though dad’s been spending most of his nights at Liam and Zayn’s. I don't know what's next, but I trust dad. He made the right decision, I think."

"Does it make you sad, though?" Harry aims a somewhat sympathetic smile at the girl.

Abbie nods, the tiniest of all nods, but it’s there. "Of course I'm sad. But it's more about, well. I'm more sad for them, you know? That it didn't work out between them. 'Cause they're both the kind of people that want to commit, be a part of a team and make it work. And now it's just- it's all gone. I'm sad for them."

Something inside Harry shifts. Maybe the way he's seen Eleanor up until now, definitely the way he thought Abbie saw the situation. She's so much more insightful and stronger than Harry was at her age, he thinks. He doesn’t want the tough exterior to fool him, however, fully aware of how a smile or two can work magic on most people, hiding so many ugly feelings.

"I understand," he nods and smiles a little in a way he hopes is consoling, "It's always sad when that happens. But they're adults, they'll figure it out. I just want to know that you're okay. And it’s okay if you’re not, y’know."

Abbie laughs at that, shaking her head. "Dad kept asking the same thing. God. I'm okay, I've seen this coming for much longer than they probably think,” she fiddles with her fingers, ”I talked about them divorcing with dad some months back and when I told him that I know he’s unhappy, he didn’t even deny it,” Abbie shrugs, turning to Harry, ”And, don't tell dad, 'cause this is horrible but, I _hoped_ they'd get a divorce."

"Because of the fighting?" Harry guesses.

Much to his surprise Abbie shakes her head. "Well, not just that. It's more like –. You know how home is always this warm, happy and safe place in the films?"

Harry nods, his fingers laced together on his lap now, to keep warm probably.

"Mine's never really been that. Maybe when I was little, but I can't remember. Our home has been cold, mostly empty. Unhappy. And I honestly think we'd all just be better off if I had two separate homes," Abbie admits, a small wistful smile on her lips, her eyes shining just the tiniest bit.

If Abbie really isn't sad about all that's happening, Harry can't really tell for sure. He doesn't know the girl all too well, but he thinks she sounds genuine. He hopes she is being genuine. And maybe then there would be one less problem between him and Louis, as selfish as that is. Harry can't help but hope, because right now that's all he's got.

”Yeah, I can understand that,” he says, his voice quiet and somewhere in there, he can hear his own emotions shining through, ”I’m here, though. Like, for you. If you ever want to talk to someone who’s outside of it, maybe. I’ve been through this, too, once.”

The girl offers him a grateful smile, nodding her head. ”Thanks, Harry. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They share a look and somehow it feels like Harry’s taken at least a hundred steps closer towards the girl, like they now share a bond of some sort. It’s nothing too huge, but it’s a start of a trusting friendship, he hopes. He gives Abbie one more smile, dimples popping out and pats her shoulder gently.

"Should we get going? Dad's probably going to the hotel soon."

"Yeah, definitely," Harry nods, starting to gather up their things.

–

_[One Direction – Perfect (Stripped)](https://open.spotify.com/track/5hA2ZHjvt1tgp55OzaqYKL) _

 

That night Harry’s laying with his chin rested on Louis’ chest, tracing the edges of the older’s face. Louis has a small smile on his lips, but it hasn’t been there all night. Harry had to listen to the man apologising about leaving them for an hour at least, before he’d had enough and pushed Louis into the en suite, under the shower with his clothes still on. Louis had easily pulled the younger under the stream as well and they’d laughed so hard Abbie turned up to see what’s the ruckus all about. She’d ended up getting her clothes wet as well, the whole ordeal turning into a poorly managed water fight.

Once Abbie had left the room, Harry had crowded Louis against the cold, wet tiles and kissed him so long he’d nearly forgotten his own name. Louis had politely returned the favour by sucking Harry off in the shower. It had made eating evening snack with Abbie just a little bit difficult, with what the younger man being unable to meet the girl’s blue eyes. Louis had a good laugh out of it, though, when they’d finally crawled under the covers.

Now Harry’s enjoying Louis’ body warmth against him, their skins touching, their tattoos lining up in a lovely way, a way that Harry thinks he’ll always remember. His eyes flit to the older’s, the other’s blue orbs shining back at him. ”What?”

The younger shrugs the best he can in his current position. ”Nothin’. I’m just kind of happy, ’s all.”

”Mmm,” Louis nods, his fingers carding through Harry’s messy hair, ”Me, too.”

The right corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up and he plants a kiss on the older’s stomach, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in his chest. He stays there, his nose pressed up against Louis, his eyes closed and his mind pleasantly empty.

”How was it with Abbie? I never got the chance to ask,” Louis’ voice is soft, but it turns into teasing, ”Because _someone_ decided it’s a good idea to have a shower while still clothed.”

The taller pries his eyes open and aims a shameless smile towards the other. ”It was fun, though,” he reasons, ”But yeah, it was good. We went for a picnic and then chatted for a while.”

”About?” Louis’ eyes are so soft and warm Harry thinks he might melt into a puddle under them.

”Uh, well,” he lets out a somewhat awkward laugh, ”Us. Her and your situation at home.”

For a second there Harry thinks he’s managed to ruin the mood completely, Louis’ brows furrowing and his hand’s movement in his hair stopping mid-stroke. ”Huh. What’d she say?”

The conversation feels like something Harry should be sitting up for, so he scrambles up with much effort and Louis, too, fixes his position, sitting up straighter. Abbie’s words are very vividly imprinted into Harry’s mind, but he wonders how much he’s allowed to disclose to the girl’s father. ”The bottom line is that she’s okay.”

Louis raises his brows at Harry, prompting him to go on. ”She just said that she thinks it’ll be better this way. She wants both you and Eleanor happy, ’s what she said,” Harry mumbles, rubbing at his neck, barely meeting Louis’ gaze. He’s not sure why it feels so difficult to talk about this.

”Well that’s what she said to me, too,” the older admits, nodding, ”What about us, then? Did you tell her?”

Harry immediately shakes his head. ”Of course not. I think she might’ve guessed, though. I’m not sure,” the younger raises his hands, ”She just said that ’whatever it is that we are, she’s happy if you are’.”

It takes a moment for Louis to process this information, his gaze fixed somewhere further away, his forehead creasing. Harry turns around to sit next to him as opposed to sitting in front of him, and takes his hand in his own. He doesn’t rush the other, just leans his head on his bare shoulder.

”She’s kind of amazing, isn’t she,” Louis eventually says, a small laugh tumbling out of his mouth.

”Yeah, she really is.”

The older turns his head to look at Harry in the eyes and he’s smiling again. ”I’m happy she approves of you,” he strokes the younger’s cheek with the back of his hand, his blue eyes twinkling. ”Means a lot to me.”

”I know,” Harry bites down on his plump lower lip, ”Does to me, too.”

They sit there, staring into each other’s eyes for a moment longer and Harry knows it’s one of those he’ll be looking back to after years have passed and he’s grown old. He’ll remember Louis’ emotional eyes and the subtle, happy smile on his thin lips. He’ll be able to remember exactly how the older smells, his shampoo and shower gel, everything. A foolish smile climbs onto his own lips as well as he leans in and kisses the heaviness of the moment away.

Louis feels safe and real against him, he feels like that _one thing_ Harry thought he might never find, even if he tried. The overflowing happiness spills out of him and he starts to laugh against Louis’ slightly rough lips, pulling him down on the mattress with him. ”I love you,” he mumbles and kisses the right corner of Louis’ mouth.

The smaller pulls away a little, beaming. ”I love you, too, H.”

 

\- **February 20th, Sunday**

"Well, this feels familiar," Harry snorts as he stands in front of Louis, both like teenagers hiding their hands in their jeans' pockets.

Louis grins at him, looking around. "The airport, maybe. Hopefully the atmosphere is a little different?"

Harry shrugs and glances at Abbie who's standing further away from them with her phone in hand. "I'll certainly miss you more."

"Me too, Haz," Louis' eyes soften as he leans closer. "Can I kiss you?"

A startled laugh escapes Harry's mouth and he has to muffle it with his hand. "’M sorry," he mumbles, "I don't know why I did that."

The older rolls his eyes fondly enough. "Can I or can I not, Mr. Styles?"

"What about Abbie though?"

Louis glances at his daughter, still engrossed with her phone. Something akin to love overtakes his face before he turns to Harry again. The same expression is there, still, now directed at the taller, warm things swimming inside his tummy. "She wouldn't notice if the building was on fire. And besides, you're the one who told me she gave us her blessing."

”She did,” the younger admits, ”But let’s give her some time, yeah?”

The other sighs in defeat, mockingly, before pulling Harry into a warm, tight embrace. Louis’ smell is already so familiar, Harry’s not sure how he’ll manage without it from now on. Standing there, it all feels okay, but the reality is that nothing’s really solved, or clear. They can only hope they’ll be able to handle it all, to keep it together.

”Call me?” Louis asks as they step apart.

”Definitely,” Harry promises, grinning.

**\- February 25th, Friday**

 

_[Seinabo Sey – Younger (Acoustic Version)](https://open.spotify.com/track/4uSCwM7Ny6jvGLX12pDq5X) _

 

If Louis had thought he’d have time to think and get over his hesitations after the trip to Paris, with all his time alone, he’d been wrong. Liam had managed to look apologetic, yet utterly relieved when throwing Louis’ full calendar in front of him the Monday after their trip. He had delegated as much of it all to other people, but there were matters only Louis could handle, things only he knew _how_ to handle. For the past five days he’s been in and out of meetings and jumping on and off airplanes, trying to sort a thing and another.

With all this work, he’s been exhausted by the end of every 10-hour day and simply fallen on Liam and Zayn’s couch without so much as a word. He’d exchanged messages with Harry daily, but they’d done a magnificent job at avoiding talking about their current relationship. _Whatever it is_ , Louis thinks to himself as he shoves a forkful of salad in his mouth. Louis hasn’t had the time to worry about that either, luckily. They’re still in an odd place, though, and the pressure around their relationship seems to be increasing in a way Louis doesn’t like. He wants to talk about it at some point, but he knows he’ll need some advice on this and some time, too. With that thought, he fishes his phone out of his breast pocket and dials his mother’s number.

It takes a while, but as soon as Jay’s voice comes through the speaker, Louis can hear just about how exhausted she is. ”Hi, love.”

Louis halts his eating, his brows furrowing in worry. The bistro is loud, filled with chattering of workers alike Louis, business partners making plans and friends laughing about something they did last week. Louis wishes he’d picked another time for the call, now. ”Hey, mum. Are you alright?”

”I’m fine, just a bit more tired today,” she assures, coughing slightly, ”You’re back from Paris then?”

Jay sounds much more happy and cheekier as she asks about the trip, full-well knowing who he’d been there with. Louis wonders if his mother maybe had her own speculations about his and Harry’s relationship. He doesn’t ask, though. ”Yeah, since Sunday actually. Been super busy, sorry I didn’t call.”

”I get it, don’t worry,” Jay’s voice is warm, ”You must have tons of things to do at work. Poor Liam hasn’t probably been sleeping while you were away.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but Jay might not be too far from the truth. Liam tends to stress double-fold when Louis isn’t at work, even more if he’s on holiday and usually not to be disturbed. He hums a response, before asking how his siblings are doing. Jay gives him a very detailed explanation of her visit to Felicite’s school, where they had voiced their concerns about the girl’s proximity with her psychology teacher. Louis almost snorts, but manages to hold it in, and instead tells Jay not to worry. ”She’s probably embarrassed beyond herself. She’ll stay away from him.”

”Oh, no, love. It’s a she,” Jay laughs, her too finding it a little bit funny, the whole incidence, ”Amanda Collins. She’s a lovely woman. Understanding.”

It’s not really any of Louis’ business, whether his sister’s gay or not, but he still feels like maybe he should be more invested in their lives. He wonders if it’s been difficult for Fizzy to come out, _has_ she even come out yet. Louis doesn’t ask about it from Jay, but makes a mental note to call Felicite later this week. Be more involved. ”Well, good for her, then. Fiz, I mean. She needs that, if the situation is what you say it is.”

”Yeah,” Jay sighs, but Louis can hear her smiling, ”So. Enough avoiding, bub. How was Paris?”

Louis doesn’t know what to say, how to start. He doesn’t think he wants to discuss him and Harry over the phone after all, let alone in a bistro as bustling as this one. ”It was nice. Abbie loved it and I saw Stan, too.”

”Oh? He lives there now, then?” Jay sounds curious and Louis knows for a fact that she is. Stan is someone Jay knows from Louis’ childhood and she’s well-acquainted with Stan’s parents as well, so it’s almost natural she wants to hear about the man.

”Yeah, yeah he does,” Louis taps his fingers on the table twice, ”That meeting wasn’t as pleasant as I’d hoped. He’s changed quite a bit.”

Jay lets out a noise, something that signals she’s not very surprised. ”His father was always a bit odd,” she confirms his suspicions, then. ”How’d Harry like the city of love?”

”Aren’t you two so chummy with each other now? Why don’t you call him and ask yourself,” Louis teases.

”Come on, love,” Jay almost whines, ”Tell me. Was it fun?”

Louis looks down at his salad, a small smile playing on his lips as he thinks back at the days that must’ve been one of the best ones of his life to date. He can still feel Harry’s soft skin against his own, can still hear his soft snores that lulled him to sleep every night. ”Yeah, it was fun,” he simply says, his voice a little coy even to his own ears.

”Geez, careful there, bub. Might talk my ear off,” Jay’s voice is mock-offended and she makes Louis laugh out loud.

”Aight, aight, mum. I get it,” Louis purses his lips as he turns to look outside at the streets, filled with people and their umbrellas running away from the heavy rain. ”He cut his hair. He loved the city and we had a really, _really_ good time. It was very relaxing.”

 

Jay sighs and Louis knows she wants to hear more, but he can’t do this here. He still needs to figure out how he feels about it all himself. Also, he doesn’t feel particularly comfortable talking about his sex life with his mum, especially with so many strangers in hearing range. ”Okay, I see how this is,” Jay eventually says, defeated, ”Come visit soon. I want to hear every single detail, d’you hear me?”

”Yes, mother,” Louis says, his voice teasing but obedient, ”I’ll try and come next week. I’m pretty tied up for the rest of this one.”

Jay hums in agreement. ”Sounds lovely, baby boy. Can’t wait to see your perfect little face. I miss you a lot.”

Louis feels love swelling in his chest as his lips spread into a wide smile. ”I miss you too, mum. I’ll bring chocolate when I come. ’s from Paris.”

”Oh, that’s wonderful,” Jay brightens up even more, ”I’ll start counting the days.”

”See you next week, mummy,” Louis almost whispers, like it’s a secret. It makes Jay laugh and they end the call with kisses and hugs, just as Liam steps into the bistro, looking dishelved, like usually, shaking his wet umbrella.

”I’m going to die,” he announces as he sits down in front of Louis. ”That company is going to be the end of me.”

”What’s happened?”

”Nothing out of the usual,” Liam sighs, ”I’m just everyone’s general assistant, aren’t I.”

Louis feels a twinge of guilt as he looks at his exhausted best friend order a to-go lunch. He knows he should make it clear to everyone in the company that Liam’s only obligated to take care of the things Louis has told him to, but he’s also very aware of the fact that the company wouldn’t stay up and running if Liam didn’t do as much as he does. ”I’m sorry, mate. Let me buy that lunch for you.”

Liam offers him a grateful smile. ”Thanks, Lou.”

”Of course,” Louis nods, returning to his own salad.

”How are you? The schedule’s not too crazy, is it?”

Louis waves his hand, dismissing Liam’s worries. ”I’ll handle it, don’t worry. Just got off the phone with me mum. If I have the time to call her, it’s all good.”

The younger grins at that, well aware of Louis’ and Jay’s close relationship. ”So, how’ve you settled, after the Paris trip? And was it good?”

The older raises his brows and glances at Liam from under them, his expression probably very clearly stating that he knows what Liam’s after. All his close ones seem to care about these days is his love life. Or the love life they presume him to have. He shrugs, aiming for casual. ”It was alright. Abbie had a great time. And Harry, too.”

”Right, Harry was there, too,” Liam says, as if he’d just remembered this small detail, ”Was his first time there, no?”

Louis simply nods and takes a sip from his water glass.

Liam is looking at him and his brains are clearly running calculations, as his eyes flit over every single detail on Louis. It makes Louis wonder if it shows on him, the change. Apparently it doesn’t though, because after a moment his friend just shakes his head and purses his lips. ”You’re not going to tell?”

The older smiles self-indulgently. ”Nope,” he pops the ’p’, taking the last bite of his salad.

Louis knows Liam wants to groan out his frustration, knows that now that Louis is single, in theory, it’s probably a bet already between his friends, when will he announce he’s dating Harry. On one hand, he’s quite flattered that his friends pay that much attention to his life, but on the other it just makes him feel queasy and like there’s not many choices for him. It’s not like he wants a choice, he doesn’t think so, but there’s that extra pressure on them, building up once again. So he doesn’t tell Liam, only pays for his lunch before they head back to the office.

–

The Skype call has been going on for a while before Harry decides he needs to vent to someone. He feels like a teenager with a crush, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s more confused than he’s been in years. His relationships have been mostly short and fleeting, more like affairs really, and if Harry feels like giving himself some slack on this one, it’s only because of that.

”I went to Paris. With Louis,” he blurts out as Ed’s going on about the last song on his upcoming album, the true masterpiece.

The man’s mouth freezes the second he registers Harry’s words, though, his brows climbing higher. Ed’s hands are still in mid-air as he slowly closes his mouth, and blinks at Harry. Then he corrects the position of his glasses, pushing them higher up his nose. ”Okay.”

It’s not what Harry had expected, but it seems like that’s all he’s going to get. ”I mean, yeah. We went to Paris.”

Another silence follows, Ed’s brows pinched together in bemusement, his lips are pulled into a confused smile. ”Yes, I heard you, Harold. Was it like, a romantic get-away, or what?”

Harry barks out a laugh as he shakes his head, his hands wringing together, trying to rein in his nervous energy. ”No, his daughter was there, too.”

”Right,” Ed nods, still seemingly confused, ”So, you just tagged along then? Was the wifey there as well? Did you have a nice three-some?”

The younger blushes at that and moves closer to the screen, his lips twitching upwards while he tries to stay as serious as possible. ”No. But the two-some was quite fine.”

”Holy _shit_ , H,” Ed squawks, his hands flying to his cheeks as he laughs out loud, ”You _did_ _not_! Isn’t he married?”

Harry shrugs as he sends a smirk Ed’s way. ”They’re divorcing. Louis’ already filed the papers.”

Ed leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, muttering ’ _holy shit_ ’ once more. Harry feels heat rising to his cheeks again as he waits for Ed’s opinion, shyly looking down at his fiddling fingers. ”Are you sure, though? About what you’re getting yourself into. Those things can be very messy.”

And yeah, Harry’s not sure what he’d expected of his best friend who, after all, knows him pretty well. Maybe he’d wanted to hear a word of reassurance, but given the situation, Harry supposes it’s not really what one would give him. Especially not Ed, the most cynical man Harry’s ever met. So, he shrugs and tells Ed all about their magical Paris vacation, tells about how close he’d felt to Louis, how he’d felt so sure the evening they’d slept together, but he doesn’t leave out the fact how he’d started doubting it all the next morning. And how he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling since. Some of his initial excitement deflates.

”I don’t know, Harry,” Ed shakes his head, hesitant, ”I met him and he seemed like an alright lad. But it isn’t exactly the biggest reassurance of the year.”

”I know,” Harry admits, silently, ”But I thought--.”

Yeah, what had he thought? Ed’s giving him a questioning look from the screen and Harry knows he’s just about as screwed as he can be. They’d been in Paris, the city of love, obviously it had been easy to fall into the trap they’d quite knowingly – in Harry’s opinion – built for themselves. They’d wanted it to be a fairy tale, but now it seems like it might’ve just been a dream. He hates how insecure he gets, but he can’t help it. Harry knows he should call Louis, demand for the time to clear it all up, but he can’t do that. He knows that if his mind is as jumbled up as it is, then Louis’ must be twice as bad.

”I felt so good and sure. Safe, when I was with him,” Harry eventually says, meeting his friend’s gaze, ”But I guess that was a bit naive of me.”

Ed leans closer to the screen. ”No, Harry. I might be wrong just as well as you, okay? I don’t even know the bloke, why the hell you even listening to me,” he chuckles.

Harry tries to smile, but it’s not very real. ”I guess you’re right.”

”Yeah, maybe,” Ed shrugs, ”Either way. Even if he’s for real, I still want you to be careful. You’ve only known him a little over six months or summat. You’re not in a hurry, mate.”

The younger lets out a breath, managing a more genuine smile this time. ”You’re right. I’ll just talk to him.”

Ed smiles as well. ”Yeah, you should.”

 

**\- March 9th, Wednesday**

The phone call was unexpected. Anything Louis has ever experienced could never have prepared him for the feeling that struck him like lightning. No lesson in school, no Sunday morning spent in church when he was twelve and no words his grandmother used to speak to him about life.

Picking up the phone, expecting it to be one of his business partners, he’d been distracted, he’d been trying to find an apartment for himself and then it was just Dan. _Just_ Dan. Dan with his wavering voice and horrible news.

” _Louis, I’m- She’s gone now, Lou, I’m sorry.”_

That exact moment something very profound inside Louis broke. The world didn’t stop, even though Louis wished it to do so. It didn’t stop on its tracks to let Louis catch his breath and understand what was happening. Brutally it went on, kept spinning, expecting now a motherless man, to understand what had been taken away from him. Time waits for no one, had he thought bitterly enough.

It’s been a few days now, far too few and at the same time far too many. Louis hasn’t slept properly, just kept himself up hoping he could jump six months, maybe a year ahead, when the pain would’ve reduced to a dull ache inside his chest. He hasn’t been able to work, not really, and Liam had banished him from the office anyway. Niall’s offered to come and see Louis whenever the older wishes him to, but so far he’s only been able to see his own family.

Eleanor has been taking care of Abbie and Louis is eternally grateful to her for that. She’s also made it her job to stay away from Louis, which the man appreciates to no end as well. He’s been playing with his phone all day, thinking that maybe he should call Harry. He’d only managed a text after he’d heard the news and when Harry had tried to call him right after, he couldn’t pick up the phone.

Louis hadn’t had the time to ask Jay about Harry. It sounds silly now more than ever that he needs approval from his mother, but the thing is, Jay wasn’t just a mother to Louis. She was Louis’ best friend, the one person he’s always been able to count on. The one person Louis can trust would always want what’s best for him. And Harry, oh, beautiful Harry has shaken this grown-up, bored man out of his shell and now Louis doesn’t know what to do with all that, with himself.

And _God_ , he misses his mum.

Without thinking, Louis dials Harry’s number. It only rings once, as if Harry had been waiting next to his phone. Maybe he had been.

”Are you okay?”

”Hey,” Louis lets his eyes fall shut as he lies back on the bed, ”And no, not really.”

”Are you eating? Are you alone in the house? How’s Abbie?” Harry’s tone is worried, he seems anxious. ”Sorry. I shouldn’t pester you with questions. Sorry.”

Louis shakes his head even though the other can’t see it. ”It’s good to hear your voice,” Louis’ own voice is rough from the lack of use and he has to cough a little.

Harry sighs and Louis can see it in his mind, the way Harry’s twiddling with the hem of his shirt, biting down on his bottom lip. ”I really want to see you. Make sure you’re okay.”

The older turns onto his side, the soft mattress shifting under his weight. ”Maybe you could come to London. For the funeral.”

The words burn in Louis’ throat, everything still seems so unreal. He hadn’t let himself thought about the funeral yet, even though he knows he’s a shit step-son if he doesn’t help Dan with the arrangements. It’s not like Louis expects his siblings to deal with it, most of them so young it isn’t even for them to worry.

”Are you sure?” Harry’s voice is quiet, his tone careful.

Louis can hear, almost see, the hesitation, he can understand it. They haven’t seen since Paris and there’s a lot of things that need to be talked about, but that’s just another conversation Louis had been putting off. The thing is, he wanted to console his mother before making any big moves, but he never got the chance. The thought twists Louis’ gut in the most unpleasant way and he has to blink.

Apparently Harry takes Louis’ silence as a sign of hesitation as well, because he goes on then. ”I’d love to be there for you, Louis. We don’t –. We don’t have to talk about us or whatever. This is about you and your family. I just want to support you, as your best friend.

Louis physically aches at the words. He misses Harry more than he’d admitted before and now that the gates are open, it all floods in. ”Yeah,” he croaks in to the phone, ”Yeah, I want you here, H. As soon as possible.”

”Consider me there, then,” Harry says, his voice warm, ”I’ll take the morning train. Just send me your address and I’ll find my way to yours.”

”I’ll send a driver,” Louis assures, clearing his throat, ”I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

”Yeah. See you, Lou.”

 

**\- March 10th, Thursday**

 

_[Tom Odell - Heal](https://open.spotify.com/track/4KlL5Bwlm4yHYxr0B2rHci) _

 

Louis’ just rinsing his tea cup when the doorbell rings. He feels oddly nervous as he reaches the door, his skin prickling in a weird manner, but it all sort of dissipates as he opens the door, to reveal a Harry, clad in his woolen jacket and brown boots. There’s a pregnant silence as their eyes meet, something heavy floating between them. It’s not something Louis’ willing to deal with now, though.

”Hi, come on in,” Louis steps aside to let the man through and averts his gaze.

The younger is glancing around him, taking in the massive house, curiosity clear in his green eyes, but even more than that Louis can see the worry drawn on his features. ”Hey. How are you?”

It should be illegal how Louis feels then and there, it shouldn’t be possible. His chest feels tight, like a constant pressure lies under his ribcage. He feels exhausted and cold, he feels like he needs Harry to touch him, so badly he thinks he’s never had it like that.

Instead of saying all this, he shrugs and swallows past the lump forming in his throat. ”I’m alive.”

This seems to do little to ease Harry’s worry as the younger drops his duffel bag on the floor and with two quick strides reaches Louis and envelopes him into a warm hug. ”I’m so sorry, love.”

The tension that had been surrounding them for good few minutes now, disappears at the touch. Louis buries his face in the crook of Harry’s neck and inhales deep. He’s not sure if it’s supposed to help him that Harry’s here now with his familiar scent and deep voice or make him cry. Either way, he bites at the inside of his cheek to keep the tears away. ”Thank you. For coming and, and all.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just rests his chin on top of Louis’ head as he keeps stroking his back. His presence is assuring and makes Louis feel safe in a way he didn’t know he wanted to feel. He notices his body going lax, fatigue from the past week catching up to him like a crashing wave. Louis doesn’t want to move yet, though, his mind finally at the most peace it has been in a long time. He wants to let go of this constant worry even for a minute, even if it makes him the most selfish person alive. He needs it.

”Are you hungry?” Harry eventually asks in a hushed voice.

”No,” Louis shakes his head the best he can, ”Just really tired.”

Much to Louis’ dismay, Harry pulls away from him at the words. The younger’s face is still pulled into a frown, which doesn’t much ease Louis’ thoughts or anything really. He avoids looking straight at Harry, not completely sure what else to do.

”You should sleep for a while,” Harry nudges Louis’ arm.

The older lets out a huffed, humorless laugh. ”Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

Harry’s eyes sparkle with emotions, emotions that Louis doesn’t think he’s ready to handle yet. Harry has this thing about him, though. He doesn’t say anything about what’s going on in that head of his, doesn’t urge Louis to speak up, not like all the others have. Instead he takes a hold of Louis’ hand and asks where the bedroom is. Without so much as a word, the younger pulls Louis into the master bedroom and basically tucks him in to bed, before he lies next to Louis.

”I’ll stay here until you fall asleep,” the man assures, his hand hesitantly coming to rest on top of Louis’ arm.

Louis doesn’t have the heart to tell Harry that he most likely won’t succeed at this simple task that is sleeping, even with Harry being right there. He doesn’t want to upset the younger any further, though. So, obediently he closes his eyes and places his own hand on top of Harry’s.

It starts quiet and wandering, but gets stronger eventually, Harry’s voice low and soothing as he looks for the right words to some song Louis can’t currently think the name of. Harry’s hand is stroking back and forth on Louis’ arm and the older feels a little bit ridiculous. He’s not a child anymore, but still he can’t help but think of the times Abbie was still a little girl and needed Louis there to scare away the nightmares. Louis would sit right next to her - much like Harry now is lying next to Louis – and he’d sing to her. He’d sing Beatles songs or sometimes Bowie, maybe even Queen if he felt up for it. It didn’t take Abbie long to drift off, but still Louis found himself sitting by her side several minutes longer, singing songs and stroking his little girl’s hair.

–

Louis doesn’t wake up until the sun has set. He feels all kinds of disoriented as he wanders out of the darkened bedroom and smells food. He barely notices the fresh laundry piled on the couch or the candles slowly burning on the table in front of it. With confusion he makes his way to the kitchen and finds Harry sitting around the island, sipping on a cup of tea and reading a book. He has an empty plate in front of him that his hand hovers above, as if he’s just about to grab it and his eyes are skimming the page quickly.

”Evening,” Louis croaks out, clearing his throat.

The younger’s head snaps up, the book forgotten in a heartbeat. ”Hey. How did you sleep?”

”Good, actually,” the older offers a thankful smile Harry’s way, before continuing, ”What have you been up to? I must’ve been out for quite a while.”

Harry gets up to put his plate in to the dishwasher as he shrugs. ”I did some laundry, but I didn’t know where to put the clean clothes so I left them on the couch. I cleaned up the kitchen a little bit as well and then I got hungry, so I made food. You must be hungry by now, too.”

Harry’s already putting together a plate for Louis and the sleep had indeed made the man’s stomach growl. He can’t remember when was the last time he put something that you would call food in his mouth, but he doesn’t tell this to Harry.

Louis sits around the island as he nods slowly. ”Yeah, thanks. You didn’t have to do the laundry, though. Or cook. You could’ve just ordered something.”

”It was nothing, really,” Harry places the plate in front of Louis along with some cutlery and a glass of water, ”I like to cook anyways. Would’ve probably done the vacuuming as well, but didn’t want to wake you or step on anyone’s toes.”

Louis assumes he means Eleanor by that as he chews on the omelette. It tastes much better than anything Louis has ever made and he tells Harry as much, who just smiles in return. ”We have a cleaner coming over once every week. So, cleaning won’t be necessary.”

Harry looks around himself, as if to see the work himself, but he doesn’t seem too fazed. ”I guess you’d need one, in a house this big.”

”I guess so,” Louis shrugs, glancing around himself, too, ”It’s something Eleanor wanted. Lydia is a nice lady, we get on very well.”

”Awesome,” Harry chuckles, his hands coming to rest on top of the cool marble, ”Liam stopped by, earlier.”

Louis raises his head to meet Harry’s eyes. ”Oh? What’d he say?”

It’s not that Louis is worried about the two of them seeing like that. He’s just, well a little on edge about the matter. He hasn’t exactly mentioned what happened in Paris to Liam, or anyone else either, and for some reason he feels uncomfortable thinking of the reactions if the others found out. He hadn’t before, but it seems like a lot has changed in just a matter of days.

”Just wanted to know if you’re okay. Seemed a little surprised to see me here, but he’s nice and polite so he at least tried to hide it,” Harry gives Louis a pointed look, ”I know you have a lot on your mind right now, but Lou. Did you not tell them I’m coming?”

Louis doesn’t want to look at Harry, he can’t bring himself to do so. He’s not ashamed of Harry or what happened in Paris, _he’s not_. But his mind hasn’t been the same since he heard about his mother and now he doesn’t know how he’ll ever tell anyone about their trip. He finds himself wondering if people will think he moved on too fast or even worse, that he’d been cheating on Eleanor all along. He doesn’t want to face all that right now. He just worries Harry wouldn’t understand.

”I meant to,” Louis mumbles, ”But I never got around to it. We only talked yesterday, so.”

Harry eyes him with an unidentified expression on his face and it makes Louis squirm in his seat. He feels like maybe he should explain further, but at the same time he knows he doesn’t have an excuse. He doesn’t want to make any more of them. Harry seems to let him off the hook, though, as he reaches for Louis’ hand.

”It’s okay, I get it,” there’s a deep understanding in the younger’s eyes and Louis feels like he might know more than he’s letting on, ”They know now, though. So maybe you should call Liam or Zayn. To clear it up. Or whatever you want to say.”

”Yeah, I’ll call him after I’ve eaten. Don’t worry,” Louis assures and he intends to keep the promise, too.

Harry lets Louis eat in peace after that, fixing both of them a cup of tea, humming silently. Louis has missed this, the noises Harry makes whenever he’s around. Silently mumbling to himself and planning his next move. It’s also very odd seeing the man in Louis’ home, navigating in the kitchen, having to look for most items for a while before stumbling upon them. His short hair isn’t styled in any particular way today, the hair at the front hanging in front of his eyes and he keeps pushing them away. Harry looks right at home and Louis has to turn his head away to avoid some more unpleasant thoughts from crawling into his mind.

Eventually Harry finishes with the teas and suggests they sit on the patio to drink them, just so Louis gets some fresh air. They grab one big blanket from the couch and sit close to each other, before enveloping themselves inside the huge piece of fabric. It’s relatively quiet outside, the time already much more than Louis probably would guess. The tea cup burns his hands slightly, but it doesn’t bother him. Harry’s shoulder is warm against him as he keeps blowing at the steam rising from the mug, just to keep his thoughts at bay. The younger seems to be keen on trying to make out the items on the backyard, even though it’s dark, but Louis realises he’s probably thinking about something else when he speaks up.

”Is Abbie with Eleanor, then?”

”Yeah,” Louis nods, ”She took her to stay at her grandparents house for a while. They’re both there right now, but Abbie will come and stay with me on the 12th. The funeral’s on Sunday.”

The word still feels foreign on Louis’ tongue. The thing is, he really hasn’t been to many funerals. Both of his mother’s parents are still alive, though they’re old and both have Alzheimer's. Their family never was close to his father’s side of the family, only his uncle’s family they visit every year, so Louis hadn’t been to Troy’s parents’ funerals either. Of course he went to his father’s funeral and he mourned, but it never shook him like this. Troy was never as close to Louis and they didn’t share an emotional bond like Jay and Louis had. He swallows at the thought of putting her mother under the ground.

”Okay,” Harry nods, smiling a little, but it’s worried. He keeps glancing at Louis, Louis can tell even though he’s not looking at Harry, but firmly keeps his eyes on the glass windows surrounding them.

They’re quiet for a bit, both sipping on their teas, both lost in their own thoughts. Even though Louis’ mind isn’t very clear right now, he’s still grateful for the company. He’s also grateful for Harry for not asking questions about their relationship. He doesn’t think he’d be able to think about it right now. And yet, he still does.

 

_[Ed Sheeran – Supermarket Flowers](https://open.spotify.com/track/4VuS959DSpr82t3qBqCrWG) _

 

The wind blows outside the glass surrounding them, tree branches moving and making it sound like autumn. It’s comforting in a way, but Louis feels a bit restless nonetheless.

”I’m glad I got to meet your mum,” Harry says after a while, his voice quiet, ”She was a lovely woman. Loved you very much.”

Louis’ eyes sting as he takes a breath. He’s been flooded with random memories of his mother for days now, but he doesn’t get used to it. Even now his body wants to react to the image of a laughing Jay, but Louis refuses to let it. Instead he nods, bravely smiling up at Harry. ”She was. She was also my best friend.”

Harry keeps his eyes on Louis, his expression attentive and his hand coming to rest on Louis’ thigh reassuringly. Louis’ eyes find a spot somewhere far away as he begins to talk, without his own will. ”She was the person I could always trust. It might be silly, I’m nearly forty, aren’t I. But I helped her raise most of my siblings. She helped me keep myself sane whenever my father was being unreasonable, she even tolerated my mistakes. She supported me through my marriage, even though she knew I didn’t want it. She did it, because she knew I cared. Cared about Abbie and Eleanor, didn’t want to leave them alone.”

Louis shifts closer to Harry, the tears finally forming in his eyes, but yet to fall. He lets out a watery laugh as he goes on. ”She used to scold me like a four-year-old when I didn’t call her every week, even when I was over thirty already. She hated it when I didn’t get the chance to visit every month. And she loved how I was with my siblings. She always said so.”

”You’re very good with them,” Harry says, his voice warm and a tad wavering.

”I love her more than is probably appropriate for a man my age,” Louis admits, the first tear spilling out of his left eye, ”But that’s how amazing of a woman she was. She deserved it all and I couldn’t give it to her,” Louis gasps as the tears finally start coming out as a stream, his lungs burning from holding back.

”The chocolate’s still in my suitcase. I didn’t even get to see her,” he sobs out, miserably and embarrassingly, but Harry just wraps his arms around Louis, burying his head into his hair.

Louis can’t stop the way his body shakes with the force of his emotions falling down onto his cheeks. He can’t keep his eyes open, every single tear burning and reminding him of what he’s lost. Everything he’d been holding up until now, comes crashing down and even when he feels Harry’s hot tears coating his hair, he can’t stop crying, can’t stop clinging to the younger’s shirt for his life.

”She was so beautiful,” Louis mumbles brokenly, his nose starting to run.

”She was,” Harry admits, hugging Louis closer, ”She was a very special, lady. And she loved you so, so much, Louis. She was proud of you.”

Another wave of tears spills out and Louis shudders in the man’s arms. He can feel his hands growing weak with the force he’s clenching them around Harry’s silky shirt, but he only leans in closer, squeezes harder. Harry strokes the back of his head with his large hand as he mumbles something against Louis’ hair. The hot air on his scalp feels oddly grounding and it helps Louis to focus on something for enough time to wipe away the snot under his nose. He’s still sobbing as he pulls away from Harry’s chest. He almost wants to laugh when he sees how red Harry’s eyes are and as he thinks how horrible he himself must look.

Harry’s eyes are still releasing tears and Louis tries to wipe some of them away with his shaking thumb. He knows he shouldn’t probably do anything right now, but he feels incredibly vulnerable and Harry makes him believe in something better right now. He aches for the younger’s touch and presence and he knows it’s something they’ll have to talk about, but not right now, not today. Louis’ eyes flit from Harry’s eyes to his lips and then back again, until Harry leans a little closer, just so that their noses are bumping.

”Can I kiss you, Lou?”

”Yes,” Louis breathes out, still crying as he closes the distance between them.

The kiss isn’t pretty, it doesn’t feel like heaven and fireworks. It feels comforting and reassuring. Louis’ desperate, frustrated feelings are pouring out with the force of a tidal wave, crashing into Harry, who takes it all like a steady rock. Harry’s hands circle around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer as Louis drowns his hand in Harry’s hair, pulling gently, the tremor still there. They move against each other urgently, both’s eyes still watery and Louis even lets out a mix of a whimper and sob, but Harry only deepens the kiss. Everything Louis had been worried about when it comes to their relationship vanishes for that moment. It’s just him and Harry, both sad and in need of the other’s touch. It’s all Louis could ask for right now.

Even though he feels slightly better with Harry’s lips attached to his, with their tongues tasting each other, he still knows that his isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing. Harry seems to have the same thoughts as he reluctantly pulls away from Louis, leaving one and then another kiss on Louis’ lips. They’re both panting a little, as Harry strokes Louis’ wet cheek. ”I don’t think we should. Not now.”

Louis’ thankful for Harry’s words, thankful because he couldn’t say it himself, couldn’t admit how broken he feels. He nods, burying his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. It takes time for them to calm their breaths, even more time to cease the tears from falling, but Louis doesn’t move away. Harry doesn’t let go of him, just eventually starts humming another song Louis has never heard. His body calms down, maybe, but his head is still cloudy and unpredictable. He doesn’t trust himself one bit. They stay like that for several hours, before climbing into bed, Harry pulling Louis to his chest and whispering a quiet ’ _goodnight_ ’ into his ear. Louis wants to feel better about it.

 

**\- March 12th, Saturday**

Despite feeling tired and a little uncomfortable in his own skin, Louis has been trying to be a good host to Harry. Very early on, though, it hard turned into Harry cooking for them, picking movies for them to watch or just simply forcing Louis out and for short walks around the neighbourhood. Liam, Zayn and Niall had dropped by the day before, all had stayed over for dinner of casserole. They had had a pleasant evening, considering the situation, but Louis had noticed Zayn giving him worried looks throughout the night and how Liam had avoided talking about work all night, even when Louis had directly asked about it. He loves his friends, but it’s hard no to get annoyed when they get overprotective of him like this.

Earlier today Harry had taken them shopping, they both needed something to wear to the funeral. Louis had plenty of suits, but he felt like he needed to dress-up in something new for this occasion, something to respect his mother. He’d thought about a new suit, but when Harry had suggested for him to buy a black, cotton-blend velvet turtleneck, he’d done so. It had looked really nice on him and it wasn’t as traditional as the plain white dress shirt he had originally planned to buy. He also bought new dress pants and shoes, as well as a black suit jacket that shimmered a little under light. They’d also made an effort to find the leukemia ribbon for Louis and all of his siblings as well as Dan.

Harry had bought an all-black suit, his jacket almost matching to Louis’, just a little bit more shimmery. His dress shirt is also fully black, only his tie is in the colour of yellow, for the awareness of leukemia. Now that they’re home, Louis feels absolutely exhausted with all the activity. Harry’s noises from the kitchen are a dull background noise as he’s on the verge of falling asleep on the couch. The doorbell is what stirs him and makes him get up, though.

The younger accompanies him to the foyer where Abbie and Eleanor are already standing. ”I thought I’d ring the bell in case you were sleeping,” Eleanor explains, her eyes flitting to Harry standing a little further away behind Louis.

”I wasn’t,” Louis shakes his head and opens his arms for Abbie to slump against him, ”Hi, love.”

”Hey,” Abbie mumbles against Louis’ chest, ”Are you okay?”

”Yeah, I’m fine,” Louis assures, kissing the top of her head and stroking her back. ”Harry’s here as well.”

The girl pulls away from her father to see Harry, who waves at her with a little, sad smile on his lips. Abbie doesn’t hesitate as he pulls Harry into a hug as well, saying her hellos. Harry mimics Louis’ actions and kisses the girl’s head, whispering something Louis can’t see or hear. His eyes are still on the pair, when Eleanor clears her throat.

As soon as Louis’ eyes land on her, he knows he’s not going to leave this situation unscathed. ”Will Abbie be with you next week, then?”

”Yeah,” Louis nods, hiding his hands in his pockets.

”I’ll go take a bath,” the said girl announces as she picks up her backpack from the floor, ”Do we have dinner?”

”We do,” Harry says, pointing towards the kitchen vaguely. ”Just come down when you’re ready.”

”Thanks, Haz,” Abbie throws them all one more small smile before climbing the steps upstairs and then disappearing into the bathroom.

The silence that falls upon them is heavy, almost suffocating. Harry keeps his distance and Louis doesn’t meet Eleanor’s gaze. He feels guilty, even though technically he has no reason to. He hasn’t done anything to break his vows and that’s all that matters, really.

Eleanor sighs after a while, making Louis look up. ”So, you’re staying here. Cooking in our kitchen, I suppose? It’s not like Louis knows how to,” she shakes her head, something evil dancing in her eyes, ”Bet you’re sleeping in our bed as well.”

And yes, Louis might be feeling guilty and not at all sure about his own feelings at the moment, but he doesn’t have to listen to his ex-wife be rude to his best friend, or whatever the hell Harry is. He narrows his eyes in displeasure, letting out a humorless chuckle. He can feel Harry’s chest touching his back, the younger’s hand coming to rest on Louis’ arm.

”I’m here to support Louis,” Harry’s slow drawl is firm and doesn’t leave room for arguing, ”I’m sorry if that offends you.”

Eleanor doesn’t seem pleased, her jaw clenching as she takes just one small step closer, not ready to be intimidated. ”He’s still my husband. Keep that in mind.”

Louis actually snorts at that. ”Only on paper. Not that it matters anyway at this point.”

Harry squeezes his arm. ”I think you should go. This is not the right time to accuse him or me of anything. Maybe try and have some discretion.”

The younger’s presence is suddenly very looming above them. Louis feels like he’s being covered by a force much bigger than himself or Eleanor, and maybe Eleanor feels it, too. The finality of Harry’s words, his adamant posture as he’s standing behind Louis like a rock, unwavering. Louis nods, as if to confirm the words, to stand behind them as well. Eleanor flicks her long hair over her shoulder childishly before she disappears out of the door without a word.

”Are you okay?” Harry asks from behind Louis, his voice much gentler, more worried.

Louis leans back against his chest as he nods. ”I’m fine. She doesn’t know a thing about us. I’m okay.”

Maybe, maybe if Louis keeps telling this to himself, he’ll actually believe it at some point.

 

**\- March 13th, Sunday**

 

_[Matthew West – I’ll be there soon](https://open.spotify.com/track/2yceAnNos9OwKioLFo5mTy) _

 

Everyone’s been crying all day, except Louis. He feels fairly shit about that, but he tries not to let it show. The service had been emotional enough, Dan had given an eulogy to remember and Louis had hugged both Felicite and Doris to his chest, tried to comfort them from their tears, but it had been in vain. Harry had politely sat with Zayn, Liam and Niall in the second row at the church and Louis was glad. Ever since he’d opened his eyes this morning, he hadn’t been feeling too good himself. He’s afraid he’ll say something he hasn’t thought through if he stays too close to Harry.

So, instead he keeps his siblings and Abbie close to him at all times. He makes sure they’re all alright, as much as possible anyway. As the closest family makes their way to Jay and Dan’s house for the wake, Louis starts feeling more nervous than anything. He’s set to give a speech, like an eulogy of sorts, himself. Dan told him that’s what Jay had hoped for when she’d been at the hospital some weeks back, hearing that she probably wouldn’t have many weeks left, not if the treatment wouldn’t start working soon. Louis felt a pang of hurt at the words, almost turned down the request, childish anger rising in him. Why hadn’t Jay told him? He’d been thinking about it all day, trying to not get bitter.

By three it was Louis’ time to step in front of his family and friends with a non-alcoholic drink in his hand. He can’t clear his throat loud enough for people to quiet down, so Lottie claps her hands. Louis throws her a thankful smile, as people turn to look at him. All of his siblings are sitting on the couches, Doris on Lottie’s lap and Ernest on Fizzy’s. Phoebe and Daisy are holding Abbie’s hands and Dan’s standing behind them, his hands in his pockets, lips in a thin, serious line. Louis feels overwhelmed by the moment, by all these people around him. Even more so, he feels overwhelmed thinking about the reason why they’re all here.

”My mother, Jay, was an exceptional woman,” he begins, his eyes downcast, ”She raised seven children, most of us on her own, only with my help, which wasn’t much help, I don’t think.” A few people chuckle warmly. ”Good thing Dan came along,” he offers the man an appreciative smile.

”Mum was my best friend,” Louis presses every word, his gaze intense on the cucumbers floating in his glass, ”She was the light to my darkness. Literally, the light. I remember when she got married to Dan, I remember the day like it was yesterday. She looked happy, glowing and beautiful. She was pregnant with Ernest and Doris, and when I told her how beautiful she looked, she said it was because of that. But she was like that always. Anyone who’s ever met her, knows.”

Louis has to swallow as he lifts his gaze up. Most in the room are smiling wistfully, some frowning and trying to keep the tears in. Harry’s biting down on his fisted hand to keep from sobbing, Louis can tell. He takes a breath and aims for a subtle smile. ”She loved each and every one person in her life. She was ready to give up anything for her family. And I’d have given up just as much for her. We all would’ve. She had me so young,” Louis shakes his head, ”So young and _still_ , she made me the man I am today. And I hope, _God_ , I hope she can be proud of me. If not now, then one day. I know she’s proud of you lot,” Louis points at his siblings on the couch, all varying states of crying.

”And sometimes, even when you’re this old,” his voice goes soft and cracks a little, ”Sometimes you just miss your mum a lil’ bit. I think I’ll miss her forever.”

The silence that follows isn’t long, but it’s meaningful in the most crucial way. Eventually everybody claps, not loudly, just politely enough. Dan comes up to him and hugs him with a pat on his back. ”She _is_ proud of you, son.”

Louis doesn’t cry even then, but he feels thankful for these people, his family and everyone around him. Zayn, Liam and Niall hug him longer than he’s comfortable with, but today it’s okay, Louis thinks. His siblings keep coming up to him, one by one, wanting that hug of a big brother, most of them not brave enough to ask for it, they’re voices still cracking from the tears. Louis does his duty as a big brother, hugs them all and reassures them it’ll all be alright.

But the whole day has been an emotional roller coaster and even when he spoke, Louis could only think about how unfair it is. How unfair it is that the world decided to take away the most beautiful soul he’s ever known, the one person who’d had so many things to give. So much love to share.

It takes him over half and hour to find Harry, to be wrapped in those warm arms of his. Louis feels safe inside them, but it doesn’t take away the pressuring feeling inside his chest. He wants to run away from all of these people, to find a quiet, dim pub with no people and order a whiskey. Louis can’t do that, so he lets Harry hug him and tell him that his mother was the brightest, loveliest angel the heaven has ever gained. And Louis agrees with him, but still, _still_ he escapes from Harry as soon as he’s looking the other way. He can’t do this right now.

–

_[Fenne Lily – What’s Good](https://open.spotify.com/track/6OBl3esnGuz8PllwDWinWS) _

 

Later that night Louis takes Dan’s car and drives Abbie home and lets Harry pick up his things. He’d voiced out his worry over leaving Louis alone, but Louis had assured him he’d be fine with Abbie home. They got in the car nearly fifteen minutes ago on Louis’ yard, and it’s been silent ever since. Harry feels uneasy about it all, feels like there’s something he’s missing right now. Louis hasn’t been himself all day, which is understandable, of course, but it doesn’t make Harry feel any better.

All these days he’s spent at Louis’ house, he’s been exhausted mentally. Only now he’d realised how far up Louis had built his walls, only now he’d realised how deep Louis’ affected by his mother’s passing away. And he thinks there’s something else there too, he’s just too scared to think about it. He has a gut-feeling, but he can’t let it weasel into his mind now, not today. Louis needs him to keep it together, and so Harry will.

They keep quiet all the way to the train station and in his peripheral vision Harry can see Louis battling with his thoughts. He can’t be feeling all too well, which makes leaving him even harder. The older stops the car, but doesn’t turn the engine off. Harry’s not sure if he should climb out with a goodbye or maybe lean over to hug Louis. While he’s thinking about this, Louis speaks up.

”Thanks. For everything you’ve done,” his voice is soft.

”Of course,” Harry nods, his hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Louis shakes his head, though, his brows furrowing. ”I mean it, Harry. Not just tonight or this week. Everything. It has meant the world to me.”

And suddenly this feels like a lot more permanent kind of goodbye. Harry’s stomach flips in an uncomfortable way as he meets Louis’ gaze. He can’t read the signals, he feels utterly lost with himself, with Louis. Not once in their relationship has it been this hard to be around each other, and it scares Harry. The rain is hitting on the roof of the car, the noise almost deafening. Harry wants to leave, but he’s worried that if he does, he’ll never see Louis again. It’s a silly fear, but it’s there, right in front of him.

Louis reaches for Harry’s hands and pulls him closer. There’s still good few inches between them, when Harry finally manages to look into those piercing, blue eyes. The look Louis is giving him knocks the wind right out of him. They kiss slow and deep, both pouring in some feelings that neither is familiar with when being around each other. It’s painful in all kinds of ways and Harry feels like crying again, even though he doesn’t know why. He hates how complicated everything has gotten. He hates it so much, he almost regrets the whole Paris trip. Louis’ hand comes to stroke his cheek, the older’s thumb leaving a trail of burning fire behind it. As he pulls away from Harry, his eyes are glistening just the tiniest bit. Harry lets his eyes fall shut for a brief moment, before he pulls away as well.

”Call me?”

Louis hesitates, Harry can see him swallow. ”Yeah.”

When Harry steps out of the car and the rain hits him, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the way his heart is being ripped right out of his now hollow chest. He allows himself to cry, as stupid as it is, as he watches a broken Louis drive away with Harry’s broken heart right next to him.

–

In the evening, when Louis is watching telly with a sleeping Abbie beside him, he tries to silence his screaming thoughts. He feels like the most horrible person there is to exist, but he can’t deal with everything right now. Not with _Harry_. Quietly, he gets up from the couch and makes his way to the kitchen. He has to pull a chair to his help to get to the cabinet of Eleanor’s wine collection.

His heart is pounding in his chest. It’s been so long, his tongue is itching. He picks up the first bottle he can reach and starts to unscrew the cap, before he’ll regret it. The vibration against his leg makes him halt. It’s persistent and angry, like it’s accusing Louis. He swallows hard and places the bottle on the shelf again.

It’s Zayn.

”Hey,” he answers, his voice so quiet he wonders if the other man can even hear him.

”Hi, mate,” the younger’s tone isn’t worried, not really, just tired and low from the cigarettes and the liquor he’s undoubtedly been consuming. ”Got time for your old pal?”

Louis eyes the wine and breathes out. ”Of course,” he says as he closes the cabinet and climbs down from the chair.

**\- March 16th, Wednesday**

Most of the boxes Niall had brought from the café are filled on the floor. The house is eerily quiet with the little ones away, with no laugh and joy. Dan is sorting through the lasts of Jay’s clothes in the bedroom that Louis had left, too aware of the brimming tears in the man’s eyes. It was the guilt, probably, that made this whole thing ten thousand times worse. He hadn’t cried, not one proper tear since he’d sat on his patio with Harry.

”You okay, Lou?” Lottie’s voice is quiet, but Louis can hear her just fine, even though there’s several feet between them.

”I suppose,” the older shrugs, keeping his eyes trained on the backyard, the swing moving back and forth in the wind.

It’s so quiet around them, like the soul of the house has left. In a way it has, Louis thinks to himself. ”Are you?” He idly asks.

”No,” Lottie snorts, but there’s that teary tone again, the one Louis has been hearing way too much lately.

They stand in the room, both silent, and it must be the first time ever that the two of them have nothing to say to each other. It’s natural, Louis keeps telling himself. The way they’re _all_ acting, him included. Death, death is natural as well. And even though it feels incredibly unfair, he can’t blame it on anyone. From what he heard, Dan had lost it at the doctors. No one had blamed him, though, no one had judged. This was every day for them.

”Are you –,” Lottie pauses, her voice coming from closer to Louis now, ”Are you going to be fine on your own?”

Louis nods and waves his hand weakly. ”I’ll be fine. The lads come see me, like, every other day. And Abbie’s home now, too.”

”And Harry?”

_Harry._

Louis hadn’t texted Harry nor called him since the funeral. The younger had tried calling him the previous night, but Louis couldn’t bring himself to pick up. He can’t explain to himself why, but he couldn’t. He still hasn’t. Maybe it was the guilt as well, who knows.

”What about Harry?”

Lottie stands next to him now, her eyes on him. ”Well, I don’t know. Is he coming back soon?”

The older shakes his head. ”I don’t know,” then he turns to look at his sister, ”Why are you asking?”

”I just thought, well, that he’d be good company,” Lottie shrugs, clearly taken aback by Louis’ words.

”He’s got school and work. I’m going back tomorrow as well,” Louis says and he can sense Lottie’s about to say something, most likely to protest, but then Dan’s calling her name and she’s leaving with a pat on Louis’ shoulder.

When he’s alone again, he can’t tear his gaze away from the swing. Everything’s like it was before, except nothing really is.

 

**\- March 19th, Saturday**

Trees and fields swish by, the train smoothly making its way onward. People around him are talking in murmured voices, some laughing and other’s on the phone, probably with someone they love. The man sitting in the last seat of the train isn’t paying much attention to his book, his eyes idly staring out of the window. To someone sitting a little further away, he might seem just absent-minded, but the closer they’d get, they would better see the creases on his forehead and the way he’s gnawing on his bottom lip.

Harry has to consciously pull himself out of the turmoil of his mind, has to force himself to look at the book on his lap again. It’s for the course he’s taking at the moment and it’s really interesting, too. Even still the letters seem to jump around on the pages, mocking him, making up words that shouldn’t be there. With a sigh, he closes the book and leans back on his seat. As the train rattles a little and Harry sways in his seat, he can’t help but wonder if he’s making a mistake. He knows this wouldn’t have been a problem three weeks ago, but now- now he’s not sure at all.

The smallest spark of hope blooming in his chest, he picks up his phone to check the time and the messages. It’s relatively late, which could explain Harry’s tiredness, but the sinking feeling that he gets once he sees his wallpaper void of any notifications, is more likely the cause. He’s been bobbing his leg up and down almost the whole journey, the man sitting next to him had already asked him to stop one time and even now he’s giving Harry an annoyed look. He forces his leg to stay put and turns to look at the sceneries zooming by.

He hasn’t heard from Louis since he left. He’s tried sending him messages, tried calling, but the man hasn’t picked up once. At first Harry had been mad, still disappointed by the way they left things the last time. Louis claimed that Harry was his best friend and doesn’t that mean that he should have the courtesy to at least respond to Harry’s messages, instead of letting him bite his nails off in anxiety. The anger had been a fleeting feeling, however, soon replaced by worry, anxiety and hurt. Not one of those feelings were any better, mind you, but they allowed Harry to think. And that’s what he’s been doing for days now: tossing around in his own mind, walking in circles until the thoughts in his brain burnt a ring of headache in his head.

Since day one Harry had worried about his quick attachment to Louis, since day one he’d thought he might be too clingy. He didn’t want to insert himself in Louis’ life, didn’t want to make a place for himself just to realise he doesn’t actually fit. And maybe that’s what has happened now. Harry knows Louis cares about him and he cares about the older as well, but something isn’t right. For many nights now, without trying, Harry has been finding things he’d done wrong during their relatively short friendship, things that might’ve caused Louis to back away. Rationally, he knows there’s no point dwelling in it, but nothing about this is rational, not even close.

Harry’s anxiety levels keep on rising all the way to Louis’ front door, where he finally allows himself to stop for a moment. He halts before pressing the doorbell, gives himself one more chance to turn away. Louis hadn’t responded to the text he’d sent from the train, he might not even be home. Harry pulls his lips in a thin line and presses the doorbell, despite his thoughts and his wild heart, thumping away in his chest.

 

_[Angus & Julia Stone – Draw Your Swords](https://open.spotify.com/track/0nDmtDxxtBN0gd8EBipoTy) _

 

When the door opens, it reveals a ragged looking Louis, clad in joggers and a jumper. At first glance, Harry can tell the man hasn’t shaved in days. Any other time that might make heat pool in his stomach, but not today. The man looks surprised, but all Harry takes note of are his eyes, bleary and colorless. ”Hey. Can I come in?”

The older hesitates for a second, his expression going from surprised to embarrassed. ”Sure.”

The house is cold, no lights are on in the foyer. Abbie’s shoes aren’t there either, so Harry figures the girl’s out. Louis leads the way to the kitchen in silence. It seems as if nothing has moved in the house since Harry left, everything’s stopped in its tracks. Only thing alive is Louis and him too just barely. Something twists inside Harry as he sits down around the island, already familiar with all the non-existent bumps in the chair. Louis starts making them tea, still not striking up a conversation. Silence has never been heavy between them, never suffocating like this one is.

Everything feels uncomfortable. The air between them is thick, laded with unsaid words and emotions Harry can’t place. Louis is distant and nothing like himself. The usual sunshine oozing from him is gone and Harry thinks he can’t be the same person he’d gone to Paris with. When Louis pushes the tea cup in Harry’s way, it’s with halfhearted effort. The man looks like he’s given up on something or maybe everything. The younger aches for him, his pitiful heart twisting at the sight of the other’s glazed over eyes.

”How’ve you been?” he asks, trying to reach for Louis’ gaze.

”Alright,” the older shrugs, his tone clipped, tired.

It seems like Louis won’t be continuing the conversation and Harry isn’t sure if it’s because he doesn’t have anything to say or because he can feel this tension, too. Maybe both. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks from the awkwardness and the annoyance floating inside him. ”Where’s Abbie then?” Harry tries again.

Louis takes a sip from his tea before speaking. ”With her mother. I was working late yesterday so El picked her up,” the older’s voice is gruff, like he hasn’t been sleeping, almost like he’d spent the previous night out.

Harry slowly nods, not sure how to say what he wants to say. Whatever it is that he came all the way here to say. In the silence, Harry examines Louis’ appearance. He’s not neatly-cut and sharp looking at all, like Harry’s used to seeing him. His posture is slumped and it looks like he’s having trouble carrying himself. When Louis sighs, Harry thinks he might smell that old whiskey smell, heavy and tacky, lingering in the air. He has to lean back, has to take a hold of his thoughts. He doesn’t let himself go down that road, he knows Louis has been sober for _years_ now. As the silence stretches between them and neither one has anything to say, though, Harry wonders if he can put this past Louis, given the way the man looks and is.

Something’s seriously wrong, whether Louis had drank or not.

”Have I,” Harry licks his lips and he can feel his brows furrowing, ”Have I hurt you somehow?”

Something very new and unfamiliar flashes across Louis’ face as he finally looks Harry in the eye. The younger can tell he’s uncomfortable, downright miserable even, but the most prominent emotion has to be that new one – that anger. ”No, you haven’t,” he huffs, his eyes cold.

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, his frown deepening. ”You’re clearly upset with me. Just tell me what is it?”

The older sighs, rubbing his temples with his fingers like he’s having a headache suddenly. He looks exasperated and Harry’s starting to feel affronted. ”I said I’m not,” the man repeats, ”Can’t you just drop it?”

Harry leans closer to him, his hands leaning on the table. ”Actually, I can’t. I came all the way from Liverpool to talk to you. At least tell me what I’ve done.”

Defiance shines through Louis’ sapphire eyes and even though life has been taking a toll on the older, they’re still expressive and blazing. Something ugly roars inside the younger, something he hasn’t felt in a very long time. Hurt and the feeling unjustified offence hit him like rocks tumbling down a hill, and he hates that he lets this get to him. He knows his resolve, the one he’d been building with the utmost care for years now, is crumbling slowly, right under his nose. It has been doing so for months now and Louis’ angry eyes are just a reminder of Harry’s carelessness. He feels sick.

The older breathes through his nose, averting his gaze like it’s a nuisance to even look at the younger. ”You’ve just –. You’ve made things a bit messy, ’s all.”

Harry’s eyes bulge, hot jolts of dread climbing up his neck. ” _Messy?_ ”

Louis fiddles with the cup between his hands, sniffing, still impassive and distant. ”I got distracted with you. Spent all that time with you when I should’ve been with Abbie and, and my mum.”

Hurt carves on Harry’s ribcage as he juts his jaw out to prevent any unconsidered words from dropping out of his mouth. He can feel panic knocking on his door, but he tries to calm himself. He splays his hands on the cool marble and takes a deep breath: Louis has drank something, clearly. _He can’t hold his liquor_ , Harry reasons to himself.

”I’m very sorry if you feel that way, Louis. Really am,” he mumbles and the hurt is evident in every word that slips past his lips, every syllable crying out how scared and lost Harry feels.

Louis strokes the side of his tea cup as he speaks, his voice strained: ”I don’t think it’s good. This, what we are doing. I think,” he pauses, his piercing blue eyes meeting Harry’s from under his brows, ”I think, we should call it a day. This isn’t what I signed up for, this isn’t what either one of us signed up for. It’s complicated now.”

The panic surfaces in Harry like water boiling over the edges of the kettle, he slams his hands on the table and gets up, but doesn’t walk away, his feet heavy like lead. Harry hopes he could just leave, before he’ll do something he’ll regret. The surprise on Louis’ face is prominent, his eyes wide and brows arched high. Harry can feel his hands shaking against the marble counter top, almost lets his lower lip wobble. His heart is stuck in a wrench, his stomach falling and falling. He takes a shaky breath, his teeth gritted together. ”I don’t know what you signed up for, but I am well aware where I put my name. And I _was_ happy with it, it was more than I ever asked for. And if I’m not what you wanted, well then,” his lashes flutter as he strains his jaw in an attempt to keep it from shaking, ”Then I guess we’re done here.”

Something akin to hurt, but not quite, flashes on Louis’ face, but he schools himself so fast Harry feels like he doesn’t even know the man sitting before him. Instead of standing up for himself or apologising like Harry had secretly hoped he’d do, Louis nods his head carefully. ”I think you’re right.”

A smothering wave of self-loathe and -hatred rises in Harry as he takes a stunned step back. He looks at the slightly drunk man with his shoulders slouched in front of him, and with horror, realises the error he’s made by ever letting Louis in. He hates the fact that he does realise it, but he can’t push it away any longer. ”I should’ve stayed away from you,” Harry mutters, his eyes scanning Louis’ miserable posture, ”There’s a reason I’m alone and this is a prime example of why. I should’ve never even talked to you. I _hate_ that you are like this, but you are. You are the worst person I have ever let in my life,” he’s aware of the hot tears on his cheeks, but he’s less aware of the words slipping through his lips powered with such hate and disgust Harry thought he would never be able to feel for Louis, ”I don’t want to ever see you again.”

With that Harry leaves the house in such a hurry he feels light-headed, his body prickling with insecurity, his insides threatening to spill out. Outside he breaks into a run, the only thought in his head to get away, away from Louis and away from all the mixed feelings he’d left for Harry to deal with. He runs until he doesn’t know where he is anymore, until his lungs are burning and the edges of his vision blurring with the dizziness rather than tears. The pavement is cold under him, but it doesn’t matter, he can barely feel it. Every single streetlight is glaring down at him, unforgiving and angry. Harry’s feet ache and his head’s hurting, but most of all, he just feels like he’d done the worst he ever could have.

An incredulous laugh, battered with the lack of oxygen falls out of him, scratching at his throat. He’d let Louis walk in like a fucking king, offering the man the best view and given him all the gold there was to give. He’d let the man hold the key to that vault Harry had so carefully filled with his self-esteem and quite newfound love for himself, and Louis had taken it all and stomped over it. And Harry was the fool in the court, dancing and entertaining his king, until he got bored. Everything is wrong, broken and Harry feels like he’s faced the greatest unfairness the world could’ve possibly thrown at him and he _hates_ that he feels as fucked up as he does.

 _I was fine_ , he thinks, his stinging eyes staring at the slowly crowding pub on the other side of the road. He had been good, he’d been happy and ready to give his everything for Louis’ well-being. An ugly voice inside him taps him on the shoulder with its traitorous tongue and whispers: _you still would, you fool._ Harry rips himself up from the ground, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. If Louis has the right to fuck up his life, if _everyone_ has the right, then Harry does too. He crosses the street and offers the bouncer a flirty smile, slipping him a twenty.

 

**\- March 20th, Sunday**

The morning had dawned on Louis like a whiplash. In the light of the rising sun everything looked worse, the clouds in his head slowly moving away, revealing the horrible destruction he’d left in his wake. It was brutal to face what he’d done, how he’d sabotaged this one thing in his life that still kept him breathing. Gathering up the determination to clean himself up had taken him hours, every move made his body ache with desperation. He knows it’s the alcohol and the lack of sleep, mainly, making him feel this hopeless, but even still, he’d said things he didn’t mean in the least. _Harry_ had said things, things Louis doesn’t want to believe, but at the same time he’s well aware how those few words he’d let slip past his own lips could’ve easily destroyed everything, actually hurt the younger in such a deep way there’s no going back, ever. Louis knows how fragile Harry’s self-esteem still is at times and Louis’d been so unsure about everything lately, he’d let it show and he’d made Harry second-guess their relationship. It was all his fault, he knows.

As he pulls on the soft, cotton sweater and combs through his damp hair with his hand, he can’t help but feel a wave of self-loathing. He might’ve shaved and taken a shower, but his body looks weak and his eyes lifeless. He looks every bit the 36-year-old he is, no signs of the youthfulness he’d already grown accustomed to in the past months. It scares Louis a little, how fast things can change while he feels like it’s been years since he last felt this dissatisfied with himself, looking at his own bland picture in the L.A. hotel mirror. His blue eyes aren’t quite as piercing anymore, looking out of place above his high cheekbones. The man’s hand comes to stroke at his cheek gently, the small stubble rough against his palm. ”Where have you gone, mate?” Louis wonders to himself, shaking his head.

When the door to Liam and Zayn’s opens, it nearly hits Louis in the face, still in deep thought. Liam doesn’t ask about it, but the older knows there’s so many questions right at the tip of his tongue. It’s familiar, the way he seats himself around the table and waits for his friend to get them both some tea. The clock is ticking away on the wall to his left and Zayn’s art-work is hanging all around him, shielding Louis from the cold white walls underneath them. Nothing’s the same, however. Even though Louis had washed his teeth, his mouth still feels tacky, disgusting. It only vanishes when he gets to take a sip from the Yorkshire tea. Louis figures Liam has every right to look at him like that, like he’d woken up from the dead. Granted, he’d been to work this week, but even Louis himself knows he’s been snappy and mean, looking like hell. The younger is eyeing him with worry now, his brown eyes wide and twinkling. Louis holds the warm cup between his hands and tries to find the right words. Springing back from what the past two weeks have been isn’t easy, knowing how much he must’ve been worrying everyone around him.

”Paris was magical, Liam,” he ends up saying, his eyes cast down, ”Absolutely magical.”

”Yeah? What do you mean?” Liam’s voice is soft, careful.

Louis goes back in time in his mind, allows himself to feel the things he felt then, again, after such a long time. It feels like it’s been months. He can remember Harry’s heaving chest under his touch, he can feel Harry’s lips on his neck and cheek and it makes his body tinkle with wild emotions, but also his mind draw in, sadness colouring those memories now. ”We slept together.”

The older raises his head to look at Liam, who, bless him, has an open expression on his face. His lips are slightly pulled up at the corners, even, as he nods and urges Louis to go on. ”I won’t bore you with the details,” he attempts to joke, but it falls short, a shaky breath escaping his lungs, ”But I felt like a human being. Like a whole person. And he, _God_ , he felt like this, this absolutely beautiful, sensitive thing, someone I suddenly needed in my life like water or air. He felt right. _I_ felt right.”

”That sounds amazing, Lou,” Liam’s tone is kind and supportive, but it holds that undertone that tells Louis he also knows that this isn’t why Louis is telling him all this.

”It was,” Louis nods, ”The best days of my life,” his voice is firm, certain. The horrible feeling of nausea hits him as he thinks about the way he’d invalidated that night, _everything_ , with just a few words. ”But nothing good ever really lasts,” he adds, more bitterly now.

The younger’s forehead creases, his lips pulling to a frown. ”What happened?”

A humorless laugh escapes Louis’ mouth as he pushes the tea further away restlessly. His eyes can’t stay still, flitting around the room. ”We fought yesterday. I felt scared and I’d been drinking- I know, I shouldn’t have,” he gives Liam a look when the man’s about to interrupt, ”I was scared, I let it get the best of me. And the booze, too. I regret it. The drinking, lashing out on Harry.”

”Are you okay? You haven’t drank in years,” Liam’s voice drifts off, his eyes sympathetic, a look Louis had been receiving much too often lately.

”I’ve already called my sponsor, I’m seeing him first thing tomorrow morning. The drinking I can handle,” Louis meets Liam’s gaze, hoping to convey his desperation, ”It’s Harry I’m worried about. I said some really nasty things, Liam.”

The man breathes out, clearly wondering if he wants to know. ”What’d you say? Did you yell at him?” he still asks, the good friend he is.

Louis hesitantly goes through the exchange with Liam, his ears are burning with embarrassment and horror at repeating his own words. His heart aches at every syllable he utters, hopeless feeling crawling up his windpipe. Liam seems particularly horrified as he listens to Louis talk and he makes sure Louis knows how sorry he is for both of them. ”I’d have never guessed that the two of you would end up here. You’ve been so open and close from the beginning, it’s uncanny really.”

The older can’t hold back the bitter laugh as he pushes his hair out of his eyes. ”Harry regrets that all now,” he points out, self-deprecation shining through his words.

Liam leans back in his chair and considers Louis for a moment. It makes the older feel scrutinized but he doesn’t say anything, afraid he’ll end up sounding like even more of a lost case, someone who feels sorry for themselves even though it’s all of those around him who he should pity. After a moment, Liam opens his mouth again, redirecting the conversation. ”How do you really feel about Harry? Putting aside your family and the horrible things that have been happening.”

Something sweet and warm flutters in the smaller man’s chest, something hopeful that’s been there ever since Paris and it’s painful. It’s painful how Louis doesn’t even have to think about the answer, when Liam puts the question like that. ”I love him,” he says, but he’s staring down at his crossed hands, laying on his thighs.

Liam shakes his head, Louis can see him from behind his fringe. His friend’s voice is strong, a little amazed, but still holds the careful tone of a question. ”You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

Louis looks up, looking defeated. ”Yeah. I did.”

”Look,” Liam says, leaning his elbows on the table again, ”Zayn and I had a conversation some time back. About you and Harry. Yes, we do talk about you,” he throws Louis a small smile, ”He kept wondering what’s so amazing about Harry. He’d met him already and he knew he’s pretty and young, but he couldn’t wrap his head around the happiness he planted in you. I know it sounds a little frivolous, but it really baffled us all. You were so, _alive.”_

”I was happy,” Louis cuts in, ”I was. I don’t know what Harry has that’s so amazing and even if I did, I couldn’t possibly explain it without sounding like a teenager in love.”

Liam nods, understanding and sympathy in his brown orbs.

”But none of that matters. Nothing’s the same anymore. And my life situation,” Louis raises his brows and blows some air out, in a sign that he doesn’t even want to get into that mess.

”Timing’s a bitch no matter what, Lou,” Liam says, his voice gentle, ”I’m not pushing you to go and make up with Harry so you can confess to him, to beg him. That’s not a call for me to make. But I want you to go and apologise, because we both know you didn’t mean the things you said. And I don’t think he did either. ”

Louis considers Liam’s words, knows him and Harry have had the same thought about the timing. It was him who wanted to pass-by the whole timing thing, yet it’s him who now can’t get over it. He lets his mind follow the path to Harry, one of the paths anyway, and wonders why can’t he. If he’s in love with the man, there should be nothing to hold him back at this point, that’s what he reckons. ”How did you know you were in love with Zayn?”

Liam seems genuinely taken aback by the question, seemingly surprised Louis would ask something like this. Louis guesses he understands, though. They’d never really talked deeply about their relationships, never been either one’s forte. This whole conversation has been so unlike them, Louis doesn’t want to give it much thought, afraid it’ll be awkward afterwards. Liam tells him anyways, tells Louis how he’d realised that Zayn was the first person he wanted to tell all his news, good or bad. Zayn was the person he trusted the most, Zayn was the person he was most afraid of losing. He couldn’t go a day without thinking about the man and then later, when they’d settled down together, there wasn’t a day he didn’t want to make Zayn happy.

The older isn’t sure if he should feel glad or scared when he recognises himself from the description. It doesn’t come easy, admitting that he’s been in the same boat for months now. He takes the thought and mulls it over, inspects it. Feels what it does to his body and realises that even though it scares him, he’s calmer than before. Knowing for sure how he feels makes Louis feel in control again and that’s something he can grab one, that one silly beacon of hope.

”If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you think it’s not the right way, even if you’re scared shitless. You tell them, because they deserve to know. I know you’re scared of rejection, scared of the problems this might cause. But don’t make that mistake, Louis. Not if you want this enough,” Liam pulls him out of his head.

”Yeah,” he nods, voice quiet, ”Yeah.”

They share a look loaded with unsaid words, and it makes it a little bit easier for Louis to breathe again. Even if things won’t go his way, he’ll always have this. He’ll always have a family to come back to.

”Let’s play some FIFA,” Louis tilts his head towards the TV, ”I need some confidence.”

Liam grins at him, getting up. ”Game on.”

 –

 In hindsight Louis should have probably called Harry first, but now, unintentionally he’s going to bring about one of those generic movie scenes where he shows up unannounced to see the main character, ready with an apology. Only Louis doesn’t feel like the certainty of his own feelings is giving him much confidence, making the act of simple knocking very difficult. And it’ll be very awkward for both him and Ed in case Louis had just done way too much assuming. The door is relatively thin and Louis can hear voices from inside the flat, but he can’t make out if there’s two of them or not.

His heart is beating in his chest, pumping blood into his veins with such force Louis feels a little lightheaded. For a moment he considers abandoning the mission, about giving Harry some more time to go over last night’s events. But he knows it’s not the right thing to do, for either one of them. He’d been tossing and turning all night last night and he’s fairly sure Harry had as well, if he knew anything about the younger. He’s been showing that hesitation for long enough now. And anyway, he owes the man an apology, like Liam had said.

 He knocks on the door, tentatively, already the ring of an apology mixed in there somewhere. He can hear the footfalls nearing the door and he’s pretty sure his heart is lodged in his throat. Ed’s head peeks out, his open expression falling the second he spots Louis. There’s nothing left of the friendly, easy breezy guy Louis had been chatting at the breakfast table not too long back.

 “Yes?”

Ed doesn’t open the door any more, his body eliminating any small chance of Louis seeing inside. The man’s brows are knitted, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest and Louis wants to cower.

“Is Harry here, by any chance?” Louis asks, trying to stand up straight so his voice doesn’t get lost on the way out.

Ed’s blue eyes survey Louis, bright and unforgiving like a spotlight. The older shuffles on his feet, self-consciously hiding his trembling hands in the pockets of his jeans. He tries to set his expression in to something that he hopes resembles apologetic and resentful, but truth be told Louis can’t even feel his face properly.

After what feels like and eternity, Ed nods curtly.

“Can I see him?” It comes out as desperate, pleading.

Something soft flashes through the man’s eyes, but it doesn’t last remotely long enough for Louis to pick up on it. Ed looms before him, his thick brows furrowing deeper and his lips in a thin line.

“What for?” The man shakes his head, “Don’t you think enough hurt has been dealt already?”

With bitterness and some amusement Louis thinks he finally sees Ed as the musician he is, his wording poetic for Louis’ sappy ears. He doesn’t want to laugh though, his cheeks heating from embarrassment and hurt. He shifts his weight from one foot to another, nervous.

“Yes, I do,” Louis nods fervently, “I’m here to apologise, not cause more- trouble,” he stammers a little, the word ’ _pain’_ a little too much to utter right now, for a reason or another.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Ed shakes his head, the look on his face now more worried and laden with hesitation, as if he knows something Louis doesn’t.

Louis has to grab that thread of hesitation, however, not willing to yield now. “I promise Ed, I just want to apologise to Haz. I can plead if you want to, but I know how desperate I must already sound. I’m not fooling anyone.”

With a long, suffering sigh, Ed steps to the side and beckons for Louis to come inside. It takes Louis a couple of seconds to react, too stunned by the quick change in the position. The door stays open behind Louis’ back as Ed takes a warning step closer to him. “Now, I’m not a violent person, Louis. But if somebody fucks with my family, I will fucking choke ‘em.”

It’s nothing but intimidating, the hair on the back of Louis’ neck stands up, but he nods gingerly, swallowing. “Got it.”

Ed’s still staring him down, but Louis can already see Harry in the corner of his eye, standing up from the couch. He doesn’t dare to move until Ed turns his gaze away, to look at Harry. “I’ll be back in an hour, gonna run to the studio for a bit. Call me if you need me?”

The man in the living room doesn’t speak and Louis can’t look his way yet, but as Ed nods and bids his goodbyes, Louis assumes Harry must’ve nodded as well. The ginger man slips out of the door with one last meaningful look to Louis, but even when the door slams shut, Louis can’t breathe any easier.

He forces himself to look at Harry, nevertheless, knowing full-well what he has to do, what he _came_ to do. The younger looks absolutely stunning, standing in front of the worn leather couch, his ridiculously large hands drowned in the back pockets of his black jeans. Louis can tell he hasn’t slept much, though, the dark circles around his eyes prominent even to him, still standing fairly far away. Something in Harry’s posture, his expression bodes hope and it gives Louis just the nudge he needs to approach the man.

Both men stand on their spots, the atmosphere crackling with expectation and tension. A tension Louis isn’t used to feeling around Harry, even though lately it seems how all people are around him. Never before Harry, though. Something inside Louis makes a pained noise at that, his brows knitting together unwillingly. They’re both quiet and unsure, uncomfortable. Louis wouldn’t know the difference between today and yesterday, but all of his hostile, ungrateful, poisoned thoughts towards Harry have vanished altogether. He can see Harry’s still on edge and hurt, however, his eyes more steely than Louis has ever seen them and his jaw clenched in a way that looks almost painful.

Frustration and regret wash over Louis as he realises how easily all of this could’ve been avoided if he’d just kept himself in check. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets his hand wipe down his face. Harry gives him a somewhat expecting look, his strong hands crossing over his chest protectively. “‘s this all then?” He drawls.

Louis shakes his head, slowly, his hand rubbing his neck as he tries to look for the right words. Harry’s green eyes are boring into his soul and Louis hates that the younger can’t see everything that’s floating inside him. He takes a deep breath and sets off to speak, finally.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he shakes his head again, hurt pinching his brows together, “I was drunk, and that’s not an excuse, I won’t hide behind that. But I was. And I’m sorry about that, too. The drinking. I have been a, a mess, lately.”

Louis wraps his arms around his torso, his eyes cast low, “With me mum gone and—. It shook me in a way I didn’t expect it to, y’know? And I wanted to talk to her, about us, about my blown up marriage, and then when I looked for her, she wasn’t there anymore. It made me lose my balance. I wasn’t prepared and suddenly I realised that nothing in my life was really planned any longer— I got confused,” he admits quietly, “I should’ve told you. Or someone, at least. But I didn’t. I bottled it up, let my clouded, odd head make up scenarios and decisions, too, without ever thinking them through.”

Louis raises his gaze again, meeting Harry’s green, red-rimmed eyes as the younger sinks down on the couch, exhausted. “With me mum gone, H, you’re the most important person in my life, alongside Abbie,” he taps his chest softly, indicating the place Harry has in his life, in _him_. “I completely understand if you want nothing to do with me, I said— well, all the things I left _unsaid_ yesterday, it was horrible. I didn’t mean any of the things I did say, you’re the most gorgeous human being, inside out. But, _Harry_. I think, I think you’d be letting go, _giving up,_ on something that could be the greatest thing either one of us has ever experienced.”

The sincerity of his words surprises Louis as he finally has said them all, standing in front of this man, _his_ favourite man, with his hand on his heart, lips parted and eyes hopeful. He hates that he feels as vulnerable as he does, but at the same time he’d bear all he has in front of Harry, if the younger just asked him to.

Harry doesn’t look dark and guarded anymore either, just sad and lost, astonished. For a moment Louis thinks he might’ve broken Harry, but then the other shuts his eyes tightly, a defeated look taking over his beautiful features, and Louis fears he’s made up his mind already. He can see Harry swallowing hard, his hands rubbing together before he licks his lips. The words are taking a forever to form on Harry’s lips and Louis struggles to give the man the space he needs and deserves. He keeps his distance, standing some feet away from the couch, his right hand eventually falling from his chest to hold on to his left one, hoping.

 

_[Fenne Lily – For a While](https://open.spotify.com/track/6Qk4zqHRjy4huavhMyQ5co) _

 

The time seems to slow down, just a little, when Harry finally clears his throat and speaks up. “I’m sorry, too, Lou. I didn’t mean half the things I said, if any,” he pushes his hair out of his eyes and meets Louis’ eyes, “I let my own insecurities get in the way of my thinking and, and I said some really hurtful things. I’m not proud. I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry shakes his head as he presses every word, carefully.

Louis can already feel the heady panic in his chest, can already hear the forthcoming ‘but’. Instead of letting it get out of hand, his panic, he wills it down and lets Harry keep talking.

“But,” Louis has to look away, “I can’t put past the things you’ve just said, Louis. You’re still mourning over your mother and even though I want to be here for you, I _will_ be here, I don’t think we should start anything right now,” Harry’s voice and words, it’s all so rational and Louis just wants to throw caution to the wind, but Harry just keeps talking. “And you’re still in the middle of a divorce process. Even if you don’t love her, it’s complicated and you need to deal with that, too. Not just push it away.”

Louis doesn’t realise he’d closed his eyes before Harry’s hand lands on his wrist, making the older jolt, his eyelids snapping open. Harry looks wavering, like he’s doubting his own words. He still continues. “You’re the most amazing person, Louis. It’s ridiculous how much I love you, how much I adore and admire you. Probably not even healthy, I don’t think it can be,” he shakes his head, biting down on his plump lower lip that Louis wants to kiss so bad. He doesn’t.

“Shit, probably shouldn’t have said that,” Harry chuckles wetly, but it’s void of humour, “I hate doing this. I don’t want us to hurt, but.”

But it’s needed. It’s part of the process, Louis thinks sourly. He hates that even like this, with his heart ripping in two, reason still finds him when it’s Harry voicing it out. His Harry. “I need to be alone, I know.”

Harry offers him a sad, lopsided smile. “Yeah. You do. And me, too. It’s intense. We are.”

Louis blinks the tears away, shakes his head for the hundredth time today. “But we were supposed to be easy. We took it so slowly, too. No rushing.”

“Relationships aren’t supposed to be easy, though,” Harry mumbles, “God knows why.”

“I don’t want to think about that,” Louis’ voice is shaky, just a little.

Harry’s thumb strokes the older’s wrist, the comforting touch sending shivers down Louis’ spine. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, and it’s not what I want to say,” the younger makes a helpless noise before he goes on, “I think we need to take a step back. I feel like that’s the only thing to do right now.”

The words hurt all the same, even though Louis could see them coming from a mile away. They hit him with the force of a lightning, almost making him lose his footing. Only Harry’s gentle touch on his wrist seems to be keeping him in place. “Yeah,” he croaks, despite the hurricane roaring inside him, “It’s okay. It _will_ be. Maybe a month from here, or three months, I’ll see how this is good for both of us.”

He doesn’t think he sounds very assuring, but that’s about as good as he can do. Harry looks just as overwhelmed before him, but that’s little help. They’re both floating in that uncertain air again, that feeling that’s still unfamiliar, like a small rock in your shoe, only this one pokes a hole into your foot. “I guess I should go,” Louis forces himself to say.

Harry seems reluctant to let him go, his fingers circling Louis’ wrist tighter. “I don’t want to regret this, Louis,” his voice is pleading, something frantic in his eyes, “Please, don’t throw me away, don’t shut me out now.”

And _no_ , he would never. Louis doesn’t think it’d be possible for him to breathe without Harry anymore, doesn’t think he even remembers what life was before Harry. “ _Of course_ not, Haz. Never. I would never.”

The younger seems a little more relieved, but the crease on his forehead doesn’t disappear. Louis places his thumb on it, tentatively, smoothing it over as his eyes trail Harry’s features, burning them all into his memory just like this, vulnerable and open before Louis. His heart stutters in his chest. “I’ll miss you.”

“Isn’t that a goodbye?” Harry sniffles a little, his hand coming to rest on Louis’ neck.

“‘s not,” Louis shakes his head, determined, “Just. I’ll miss this. You, close to me.”

Harry sighs, his eyes falling shut for a moment. “I’m not going away. Well, I am, but just to Liverpool. We can visit. We’ll call. I won’t disappear either, I promise.”

Louis wants to believe that and for Harry’s sake, for his own weak heart’s sake, he really tries to. He nods, silently conveying his trust to Harry. “I suppose we shouldn’t kiss. That’d be inappropriate, probably.”

Harry’s lips twitch, the left corner picking up a little, the dimple appearing. “Probably.”

But they kiss anyway. Louis’ slightly dry lips connecting with Harry’s full, soft ones, drinking in everything he can get. Harry’s arms circle around Louis’ waist as the smaller drowns his hands in Harry’s soft, perfect hair, grabbing them lightly. Their lips mould together, Louis breathes Harry in and bites his lower lip gently, pulling possessively. Everything around him is in colour again and his skin’s burning where the younger’s touching him. His own small hand cups the younger’s soft cheek, thumb stroking as he feels the muscles in Harry’s jaw moving as the taller pushes his tongue past Louis’ lips. It’s heavenly, it’s painful and absolutely all Louis will be able to think of for the rest of his miserable life. Harry’s large hands pull Louis closer, their crotches brushing together dangerously, momentarily heating the kiss up. Everything goes a little white noise around them, as they desperately play the tug of war with their tongues, both full of emotion, risky emotion, something that’ll pull them in before they’ll notice. Louis can feel Harry’s cock against his own, both embarrassingly and painfully hard, and then Harry pulls away, sudden and with a whine. Louis’ left feeling cold and horny, but broken. They’re both breathing hard, looking at each other with hooded eyes.

God, Louis loves Harry. _He’s in love with Harry Styles._

Harry licks his lips just as Louis wipes his own with the back of his hand. There’s only little space between them, but it feels like miles again. “I— I didn’t mean to,” Harry tries weakly, but Louis mercies him and nods softly, understanding.

“I really should go,” he murmurs, once more letting his eyes drop to Harry’s lips, before settling on Harry’s eyes.

Harry places his warm hand in the back of Louis’ neck once more, his expression going soft, a little pained, too, but Louis pretends he doesn’t notice. “I’ll always be here. Always.”

Louis has to swallow, has to consciously hold back the tears that have threatened to fall all day. He nods, then, his hands looking small and in place on Harry’s broad chest. “Anytime you need me, H. And even when you don’t. Just a phone call away.”

Louis can _see_ the love in Harry’s eyes but he can’t say anything, can’t reach for his feelings. He _can’t_. Despite his internal struggle, he gets on his tiptoes and places one small kiss on the younger’s lips. Like a promise. Harry’s eyes are half-lidded and his lips parted slightly, he looks like a dream. _And that’s what he’ll be_. Once more Harry pulls Louis into a tight hug, hiding his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, where it belongs. He whispers something about Louis being beautiful, but the older can’t hear it, can’t register it. His hands fisting on Harry’s plain, white t-shirt, holding on for his life. Why does it feel like an end?

Louis lets his eyes slip shut as his mind reaches a place he’s avoided for days now. He’s been so afraid of the judgement he might feel, the disapproval, but in the end it’s just what he makes up. He can see his mother’s kind face right there, in front of him. And she’s smiling and she’s sad for Louis, but Louis knows she’d approve of this, in the end. She would trust in Louis, she would tell Louis to let go, give it time. Because time heals everything, even the deepest of wounds. It’s thought Louis will have to hold on to.

It physically pains Louis to let go, but he does anyway. His mother’s eyes still in his mind, he lets his hands fall away from Harry’s chest, lets air, thicker now than ever before, like a barrier, swim between them. Harry looks like he’s about to cry, but he’s trying to smile and Louis knows he has to, too. Neither one of them is dead, neither one of them is giving up. Louis considers Harry for a moment, his bright green eyes and short, brown hair hanging in his face. They’re just taking time, that’s all.

“I’m gonna go now, curly,” his voice doesn’t waver, but it’s too quiet to be joking.

Harry smiles, not with full-on dimples, but still. “I’m not. Curly, I mean.”

Louis throws an impish smile Harry’s way as he takes one small step back, just to make sure he isn’t glued to the floor. “You are to me.”

The younger rolls his eyes, the smile forming on his lips now more genuine. “Of course, love.”

They’re now several feet away from each other, Louis nearly at the door. He blindly reaches for the door handle.

“Call me?” he asks, his eyes already turning into happy slits.

Harry actually laughs, his hands back in his jeans’ pockets. “Definitely.”

When Louis walks to his car, he doesn’t feel exactly light. He doesn’t feel heavy either, just unsure and a little lost. But he knows it’s how it’s supposed to be after one’s just gotten divorced and lost their mother. He knows he’s feeling what he should, and it makes it easier, somehow. There’s this place inside him that’s empty, though, and it takes some conscious effort to not let its desperate shrieking get through to Louis. As he fishes his phone out of his pocket, he looks back at the ugly building, the tiniest smile on his lips, the lump in his throat smaller in size now than forty-five minutes earlier.

“Hey,” he says, as Liam picks up, “Should we go for dinner? Invite Niall, too. Yeah, I’ll be at yours in thirty. Mmhm, thanks mate.”

The phone call ends and Louis stays there, staring at his phone wallpaper. It’s from one of his and Harry’s FaceTime calls, Louis’ own face small in the right corner. He taps it twice, a smile on his lips, before he pockets the cell and hops into his BMW, as ready as he’ll ever be to face whatever there’ll be to face.

 

**\- May 27th, Friday**

”C’mon, Abbie! We don’t have all day,” Louis hollers from the foyer, checking his wrist watch, not impatiently, per se, but not very patiently either.

For the past thirty minutes Louis has been pacing around the living room area, trying to do _something_ , while waiting Abbie to finish up her packing. Though he highly suspects the girl hasn’t actually done much packing, her laugh and Daisy’s coming from the speaker phone clearly ringing in the flat. Louis hasn’t ushered Abbie more than twice, however, having had his hands full all morning with their newest family addition, Vida. The puppy Papillon still demands a lot more of Louis’ time than what he signed up for when Abbie had persuaded him into getting her. Granted, it hadn’t been much of a task, seeing as it only took one picture and a few empty promises before Louis caved. In his own mind he’d hoped that the dog would bring some company during the weeks Abbie was at her mother’s and none of Louis’ younger siblings were staying over. He hadn’t told Abbie this, even though Louis thinks she might have guessed. And also used it ruthlessly against her father.

Either way, the duty of taking the puppy out at night, in the morning, in the evening and pretty much every time she needs to go, has fallen upon Louis. He doesn’t mind taking her out with him when he goes on his morning jog, but when she keeps whining at 2 a.m., forcing Louis to roll out of bed and pull on a hoodie, that’s when Louis seriously doubts his recent life decisions. Vida is cute, though, and that makes up for some of it. But Louis still isn’t sure how exactly had Abbie’s promises of ” _taking the puppy out at least three times a day and cutting her nails and literally washing her every week_ ” turned into Louis losing some precious sleeping hours, while considering making dog manicures his actual career.

The new flat wouldn’t be very convenient for that, he muses to himself, as he leans against the wall, next to the door. Louis had sized down quite a bit after he managed to sell their previous house in Hampstead, preferring a flat that’s in one story. He’d ended up choosing a cosy one in Islington, near St. Mary’s Church even though it was located closer to the city center than Louis would’ve wanted. The flat’s big, floor-to-ceiling windows and the dark, mahogany colored wooden floors had made the decision easy, however, as well as the recently conducted renovation of the flat. And it wasn’t exactly a nuiscanse that his AA-group gathered only two blocks away from the building every Monday evening. The flat wasn’t very big, but Louis didn’t want it big. He’d gotten enough of empty halls and unused rooms. Now he only has three bedrooms, one watercloset, kitchen and a bathroom. Abbie has yet to start complaining about not having her own ensuite and anyways, she seems quite happy with the change of scenery as well, though Louis suspects it has everything to do with Louis’ improved mood and the general feeling in their home.

”Finally,” Louis mumbles as Abbie appears from her room at the other end of the flat, carrying her backpack with her, Vida stumbling behind her. ”Had a nice chat with Dais there, hm?”

The girl rolls her eyes, as if she’s exasperated with Louis. ”Shut up, dad. We had some serious business to talk about, okay?”

It’s Louis’ turn to roll his eyes as he pushes himself away from the wall, giving the puppy a scratch under the chin. ”Really? What might that be?”

The deep blush rising on Abbie’s cheeks tells Louis all he needs to know, but he still keeps buggering the girl about it, all the way to the car and even when she turns the radio up, pointedly ignoring him. ”Fine, fine,” Louis eventually relents as they stop at a red light, ”I know it’s about a boy anyway. I reckon it’s that Jason kid.”

”Jonathan,” Abbie corrects, unwittingly, ” _Shit.”_

Louis grins at her. ”Don’t worry, bub. I’m not about to ask any embarrassing questions, like, have you kissed yet or when do I get to meet him or –,” Louis rambles on, stretching every other word, until Abbie just raises her hand, giving him _the_ look.

”Mum’ll do all the asking, thanks,” she mutters, shivering in her seat as if it’s a particularly unpleasant thought to tell Louis more.

”You’re gonna have to introduce him to me eventually,” he shrugs, non-apologetic, still amused to no end by the girl’s demeanor.

Abbie scoffs. ”As if.”

Louis gasps, his brows arching. ”Are you– Are you _ashamed_ of me, Abigail?”

The teenager turns to look at Louis, very slowly, her expression beyond unimpressed. She pulls her lips into a fake smile and then grins, just as mockingly. ”Never, father.”

Louis can’t hold back the laughter bubbling up from his throat as he just shakes his head. ”Okay. But is he coming to that party of yours, hm?”

The girl shakes her head a no. ”He’s leaving to go to Australia with his parents in a week. They have some relatives there and since we’re basically done with school,” she shrugs.

”Right,” Louis nods then, taking a left turn, already very familiar with the route to Eleanor’s new flat, ”Have you thought about what you’d like as a graduation gift, then?”

”I didn’t think I’d be getting one,” Abbie laughs, surprised, her eyes crinkling in the corners, ”Probably some holiday, though.”

”Mm,” Louis mulls over it a bit, wondering how he’ll be able to get days off now that the company’s selling is so close, ”Maybe we’ll go to New York. You’ve always wanted to, right?”

His daughter’s eyes widen as she leans forward in her seat to take a proper look at Louis. He raises his brows, a small, smug smile slowly spreading over his lips. ”Are you serious? You hate New York. _Dad_. Don’t say you’re taking the piss?”

”’m not!” Louis laughs, patting Abbie’s head clumsily with his left hand as the girl tries to dodge, ”We can do that. Maybe in July or August.”

”That would be a dream come true,” the girl shakes her head, still stunned, ”Are you sure it’s alright? Like, you could just buy me some make-up or whatever. We already went to Paris this year.”

A small wave of emotions washes over Louis at the mention of Paris, but he tries not to let it show on his face. ”It’s okay. It’s been a rough year for all of us. I at least could use another holiday.”

Abbie breaks into a genuine, heartfelt grin as she awkwardly tries to hug her father from the passenger seat. ”Thank you, dad. I love you.”

Louis offers her a smile, pleased and happy to see her like this. It hasn’t been something to be taken for granted in the past months, so Louis has learned to appreciate it. ”Love you, too, bub. Now go, your mum’s already waiting for you.”

The girl stays for a moment, her hand on the door handle and her eyes shining with happiness. She leans over the middle console once more and pecks Louis’ cheek, before hopping out. ”See you next week, daddy.”

 

_[Lewis Capaldi – Bruises](https://open.spotify.com/track/5KfSsgAJGrZc3VrcPLFVMo) _

 

Louis waves at her, leaning on the steering wheel of his BMW, watching Abbie make her way inside. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, and back up from the driveway. His mind isn’t as clear anymore as it was just a few minutes before, now inevitably driven towards Paris, towards Harry. He takes a deep breath and wills the negative feelings down, but not pushing the thoughts about the younger man away wholly. He’s learned that doesn’t result in anything good.

The last time Louis and Harry were on the phone, Louis told him about his company’s selling and then they’d chatted a little bit about Harry’s studies and his family. Most of their calls were like that, life updates and some lighthearted joking.

If Louis and Harry’s relationship had been uncanny before, it was even more so now. Well, now it at least seemed and felt weird to both of them, too. Even though their phone calls were simple like that and they’d only seen each other twice in the past two months, Louis still considers Harry to be his most-trusted friend. When they meet in person, it’s all different. They had dinner just three weeks before and the conversation had varied from news on the family frontier to some serious heart-to-heart talk about Louis’ AA-meetings and Harry’s battles with his insecurity – or more like how well they’ve both been doing lately on their own ends. Harry’d started in some sort of a therapy or something alike to get rid of the commitment fears he’d developed over the course of the years. Louis made it a point to stay more open after what happened in March, as well, and he’s worked really hard on keeping all of his closest friends on the loop ever since. It still doesn’t come naturally, telling people when he’s overwhelmed by the missing of his mother or when he feels like he could just about go and jump off a cliff, because he doesn’t know what to do with his future. But he tries.

In April, Ed invited Louis and his best mates to a pub quiz with him and Harry, which had thrown Louis a little off balance. He’d accepted the offer, of course, but he’d been nervous. Turns out, Harry had thought it best to clear the air a bit, and so in the end they’d all had a pretty good night together. Niall and Louis had lost sumptuously, but it hadn’t mattered to Louis that much, because Harry was smiling again and his eyes were bright. When they’d said goodbye, they’d hugged but both had been very clear to let go before it turned into something intimate, rather than friendly. Louis could still touch the feelings floating between them and he suspected Harry could, too, but neither mentioned it.

They work alright now, but it’s not what Louis wants. Not what he dreams about, not what he sees himself doing with Harry in ten years. They don’t talk about these things anymore, though, and for all Louis knows Harry has decided to keep things the way they are for good. Louis won’t complain if that is the case, but at the same time hasn’t lost the hope just yet. It’s only been a little over two months and even though Louis has made a lot of progress in his grieving process and even the divorce had been finalised, it doesn’t mean they should dive into it immediately. Louis is also very aware of Harry’s need to take some time to himself. Sometimes it’s hard for Louis to remember that the younger is so young, still so inexperienced when it comes to some things in life. Harry’s always been so mature and been through tons more than many others his age.

The ring of his cell pulls Louis back to present time, Elton John singing his way into his brain. He presses the button on the steering wheel to direct the call to the speakers.

“Hi?”

“Hey, Tommo,” Niall’s cheery voice comes through, automatically making Louis smile.

“Hey, mate. What’s up?”

"Nothing much, just got home from me morning shift, actually,” Niall seems to be cooking, as there’s the sound of a sizzling frying pan in the background, “Making some food. Wanna eat with me? Think I made a little too, much.”

The smile on Louis’ lips turns into a softer one, recognising the way Niall’s voice gets a tad higher when he’s nervous Louis will catch him on a lie. It’s not a bad lie, though, only concealing the fact that Niall cares about him. “Sure. I just dropped off Abbie so it’ll take me a while to get to yours. D’you need anything? I can pick something up on me way there.”

Niall thinks about it for a moment before deciding he could do with some nachos and dip, seeing as there’s some golf tournament on the telly in the afternoon. One thing Louis will never understand is Niall’s like for golf. Or love, more like, because the lad would probably marry the sport if it were possible. “Okay, will do. See you in a bit.”

“Yeah. Drive safe.”

They hang up and Louis changes his course towards eastern London, having a good feeling about the day. His stomach is already growling a little and the company won’t be too shabby either. He appreciates how all of his friends have made a conscious effort to invite Louis over when he’s not with Abbie, but it never fails to amuse him that they can’t say it straight out. It had picked up right at the end of March and no one ever mentioned it, but it was more of a constant than a random occurrence now. FIFA -nights, gallery rounds and football matches are what Louis’ spare time consists of now, along with loads of laugh and good people.

He smiles to himself as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel. He really can’t complain, even with the person-shaped void inside him, he really can’t. And he won’t, Louis’ decided that already. He’ll settle. With this one thing, he will settle.

—

  
With nachos and salsa in his hands, Louis weaves his way through the supermarket. He’s not in a hurry, but he hates crowded, granny filled supermarkets more than anything else. They make him feel uncomfortable, for some reason. He’s just about to make a beeline for the registers, but then his eye catches on a Cosmopolitan issue. _How to throw a party_ it reads on the cover with big, pink glittery letters. It doesn’t appeal to Louis in the slightest, but he doesn’t have much experience in throwing a party, and he’d promised a good one for Abbie. Liam and Zayn had promised they could have it at the gallery and Louis knows they’d probably help him if he asked, but he doesn’t want to bother them so much. He goes to grab the magazine, but a familiar voice makes him freeze mid-air.

“I thought you didn’t read Cosmo.”

There’s a hint of laughter in Harry’s voice, his arms crossed over his chest as he glances Louis up and down with his big, green curious eyes. Louis thinks his breath catches a little, but he’s not too sure, too busy looking at the man. Harry’s hair is a bit longer now, still styled up, though, and he’s wearing a casual t-shirt along with some black jeans, still managing to look like sex-on-legs. “I don’t,” the older says, a small moment of dejá vu hitting him.

Louis draws his outstretched hand back, finally easing a smile on his lips as he pulls his friend into a brief hug. “What’re you doing here?”

“Visiting Ed. The album launch party is this weekend,” Harry explains, pride shining through his words.

“Wow, tell him I said congrats,” Louis claps his hands silently in a sign of impression, “I hope it goes well.”

Harry nods and promises to tell Louis’ regards to Ed. “Healthy diet there,” he points at the items in the older’s hands and makes him laugh.

“I’m heading to Niall’s, he wants golf snacks.”

"Of course he does,” Harry’s smile is amused to say the least as he inspects the pack of nachos in Louis’ hand, “I still hope you’re eating something else, too.”

“We are, I promise. It’s something Niall’s making, though, so I’m not sure if it’s any better.”

“Probably not.”

They stand there together for a while, just smiling at their feet and each other, and it reminds Louis so much of their first time seeing each other after the flight to London. There’s this certain barrier between them, however, and this time Louis acknowledges it. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s different. Harry shuffles on his feet, pushing his hair out of his face. “How’re you holding up then?”

“Good, good,” Louis bites down on his lower lip to avoid blurting out anything unconsidered. “Just took Abbie to El’s. I feel like Niall invited me over today just to, like, be there for me. What with the divorce getting finalised and all.”

Harry’s brows rise up and his lips fall apart a little, surprised. “Oh, I forgot! It’s on Monday, right? The date?”

“Mmhm,” Louis confirms, not quite able to look at Harry, afraid his emotions will shine right through his betraying eyes.

“So,” Harry drawls, “How d’you feel about that?”

There’s a nervous undercurrent in the taller’s tone, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he keeps his gaze intensely on Louis. Something twirls inside the older, letting his gaze wander back on Harry’s face. He hopes he looks as sure as he feels. “I feel good. I feel free,” Louis nods, maybe more to himself than anything. “Excited, even,” he then adds for good measure.

The left corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up, but the younger does an admirable job at trying to hide it as he wipes his lips with his thumb. The pleasant pink dusk on his cheeks gives away the man’s happiness, though, and makes Louis smile a little. “Okay. Well, that’s, uh, good. I’m happy for you.”

Louis coyly shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

“Err. I guess I should continue my shopping,” Harry says and lifts his basket to emphasize.

It’s been a while since they last saw and Louis finds himself missing the younger already, even with him standing an arm’s length away. The feeling, that gut-wrenching missing, never really leaves, but it subsides when Harry’s further away. But when they see each other, even for a short moment like this, the feelings hit Louis like a gust of wind, making him dizzy in the head. Now, too, he thinks about reasons to hold on, something to talk about to prolong this. That’s one thing he’s never really stopped doing, either. Since day one it’s been like this, the moments of parting pulling the most random stories out of them. Right now, though, Louis actually has something on his mind, something he’s been dancing in circles around for a couple of weeks already.

Since Abbie doesn’t have to go to school for more than the occasional exam, they’d already been planning the party in her honour. It’s only two weeks away now, but Louis has failed to mention it to Harry. It’s been conscious, probably, at least on some level. He’s not sure why he hasn’t opened his mouth yet, exactly, but the thing is: he hasn’t. In two weeks, it’ll have been three months or so since their _talk_ and Louis knows they hadn’t agreed on any time limits, but lately he’s been hoping they had. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to try and take the next step, or if he’s just supposed to forget about the whole thing. To invite Harry to the party could be read wrong, knowing Louis, he’d make it impossible not to, too. Louis notices he’s gnawing on his lower lip and Harry’s politely pretending to look at the magazines, giving Louis the time to stall.

”There’s a party,” the older blurts, eventually managing to open his mouth despite the confusing thoughts, ”For Abbie. I know we don’t tend to celebrate graduating at this point, but I wanted to give her something nice. And I wondered,” he chances a glance at Harry, the man’s expression unreadable, just a small tint on his cheeks, ”I wondered, if you’d like to come? It’s on the 11th.”

A small, sudden laugh escapes the younger’s lips as he ducks his head. ”This is a bit embarrassing, but, uh, Abbie– She already invited me.”

Embarrassment crawls up Louis’ spine, his own cheeks heating. _Right_. Of course Abbie would invite Harry, without telling her father. _Of course_. ”Er, right. She didn’t,” Louis has to lick his lips as he rubs his neck, ”Well, she didn’t mention that.”

Harry’s smile is amused, but sympathetic, his green eyes glinting under the industrial lights. ”I figured. She’s quite quick like that. Reminds me of someone.”

The words make Louis grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ”Mm, I guess I should blame myself.”

”Yeah, maybe,” Harry says, slowly, his expression turning into something shy, ”I hope it’s okay she told me I could bring a plus one?”

All of the wind seems to leave Louis’ lungs at once, but somehow he manages a nod while still having control over most of his facial muscles. ”Yeah, yeah,” he nods, his voice a little high-pitched now.

The younger gives him a funny look, as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Louis doesn’t think he can go through this here, in a granny-filled supermarket, so he coughs to his fist and forces a smile on his lips. ”I think I need to head to Niall’s, the food is waiting. And anyways, you have to get to Ed’s sometime, too,” he waves in the general direction of Harry’s basket.

”Yeah, I guess,” Harry’s voice drifts a little at the end, his eyes still curious, ”See you at the party, then?”

Louis nods. ”Yeah, of course. I’ll see you there,” he’s still smiling as he opens his arms for a hug.

Harry falls into them easily, his chin resting on Louis’ delicate shoulder. _Like a fucking puzzle piece_ , Louis thinks, something bitter tasting in his mouth. He gives the younger’s back a gentle pat before he pulls away, trying to avoid hasty movements. ”Well. See you then,” he awkwardly waves and side steps around Harry.

The younger seems more than a little bit confused, probably by the change in Louis’ behaviour. Louis doesn’t stay to watch, instead turning around and taking two completely normal, slow-enough steps. ”Lou,” Harry’s voice rings from behind him.

With reluctance and a little worry, Louis turns around.

”Don’t forget your Cosmopolitan,” there’s a teasing glint in Harry’s eyes, an apology in his smile, even when he has no idea what he’s apologising for and Louis wants to kiss him.

”Thanks,” he mumbles, a genuine smile stretching on his lips as he strides back to Harry and takes the magazine. Before he turns away again, he makes sure to meet Harry’s eyes properly, nodding his head in acknowledgment. Harry bites down on his smiling lower lip. ”See you around, Harold.”

When he walks away, Louis doesn’t think about kissing those rosy pink lips.

**\- June 11th, Saturday**

 

The ring of children’s joyous laughter travels in the open space reaching the ears of every single person present. It makes Louis turn his head away from Dan and Felicité, searching for the bundles of joy. The group of his relatives’ children are playing some game Liam had set up in the far corner of the gallery, whooping and jumping around each other, all very careful to avoid bumping on the table set a few feet to their left. Jay’s framed smiling face is watching over them, surrounded by Abbie’s gifts and Louis can’t help the smile spreading on his lips.

 

”Doesn’t it just make you want one?” Liam asks as he parks himself next to Louis, his eyes full of love and hope as he gazes at the children.

 

”Not really,” Dan snorts, ”’m glad mine are already older.”

 

Liam sighs, shaking his head. ”But they’re so adorable. Just wanna pinch their cute lil’ chubby cheeks.”

 

”Sure they are,” Louis nods, ”They haven’t had any cake yet, though. That’s when the _fun_ begins,” he gives Dan a knowing look and makes the man laugh.

 

”I still want one,” Liam grumbles, just as one of Louis’ aunts comes from behind him and pulls him away to rant on about Zayn’s _divine_ looks, because that’s how Louis’ family is: no boundaries, whatsoever.

 

”Poor Zayn. Liam’s gonna have his way eventually,” Felicité shakes her head, looking after Louis’ assistant who’s blushing furiously as aunt Clare’s hands are moving around very graphically.

 

Louis knows for a fact that the couple have been in talkings about starting a family and they have slightly different stances on the matter. Zayn demands that they have to married first, but Liam argues it’s an acient institution and has absolutely nothing to do with family or love. Louis had been quite surprised to learn Zayn’s actually pro-marriage, but even still, he’s been amused following the conversation that doesn’t seem to move forwards. Him and Niall have a bet going on.

 

”In all truth, though,” Louis says after a while, ”I think Liam would make a good father. He’s helped me tons with Abbie throughout the years.”

 

Dan smiles, then. ”Yeah, I don’t doubt him at all. It’s still a huge responsibilty, though. And calls for sacrifices. Those two are still young.”

 

Louis nods at that, agreeing. ”Yeah. I don’t think I’d go through that again. My lovely siblings and Abbie are plenty enough,” he coos as he pulls Fizzy under his arm, only to have her writhe away with complainments.

 

They share a laugh before Doris comes poking at Louis’ sides to prompt him into playing with her. As the great big brother that Louis is, he starts goofing around with the girl, picking her up and throwing her in the air to his best ability. It still surprises Louis at times how fast his youngest siblings have grown up. He clearly remembers changing their nappies, but somehow they’re in primary school already, proper big kids. Doris laughs under Louis’ tickling fingers and Louis can feel himself sweating a little in his burgundy sweater and blue, ripped jeans.

 

”You’re so energetic, wow,” he pretends to wipe some sweat off his forehead, widening his eyes in a comical way, earning a laugh from the smaller one. ”I think I’m getting a bit old.”

 

”No, you’re not, Lou,” Doris argues, taking a hold of the man’s hand, pleading him to play with her, ”Throw me again!”

 

A grin spreads on Louis’ lips as he relents and picks the girl up once more, throwing her in the air. Her bright laugh echoes in the space, Louis’ own laughter joining in as he puts the girl down, leaning on his knees. Doris pokes his nose, going on about how amazing of a big brother Louis would be if he threw her ’ _just one more time’_ _._ Louis’ just about to reply, argue maybe, but then his eyes land on a familiar, tall figure behind the girl, talking to Abbie. He zones out a little, taking in Harry’s black, loose t-shirt tucked in his just as black trousers that widen towards the end of the leg, making the younger look like a young rock star that’s just around and about their own house, jamming. The man’s tattoos on his forearm are on display and something aches inside Louis. He looks edible, soft and gorgeous all at the same time and Louis has to swallow some of the nervous energy away. Harry’s pushing back the hair from his forehead, clearly feeling shy, but his smile is proud as he pulls something in a gift bag from behind his back, handing it to Abbie. Louis can’t make out what it is that’s in the bag, but Abbie’s clearly happy as they hug, Harry saying something that Louis can’t hear from the distance.

 

Louis doesn’t get the chance to direct his attention back to Doris, when Abbie’s eyes start scanning the room and once they find Louis she nods in his general direction. Harry turns his eyes to Louis as well, before hugging Abbie once more, sharing a laugh with her. Louis gets up from his crouching position, his back aching a little where it was bent. ”I’m sorry, Dottie, but bubba needs to talk to Harry now. Maybe go play with Ernie, yeah?”

 

The girl pouts at Louis, but doesn’t argue, her attention seeming to be mostly elsewhere already anyways. She taps Louis on the stomach with her hand once before disappearing, much like Dan and Fizzy seem to have done. Louis’ still a little out of breath from playing with Doris when Harry reaches him, a smile on his lips, waving in a small gesture.

 

”Glad you could make it,” Louis greets, gladly accepting the hug Harry’s offering. ”Hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

 

”’Course not,” the younger shakes his head as they pull apart, still smiling, ”Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

 

Subconsciously, Louis notes, he’s been trying to glance around to try and spot Harry’s plus one. All the people in the room are familiar to Louis in a way or another, however, and with a small, hopeful tug of his heart, he lets himself wonder if Harry maybe came by himself after all.

 

”Heard Abbie did really well on her GCSEs, I’m glad I brought a gift,” Harry muses, his expression open and happy.

 

”Oh, yeah? What d’you bring?” Louis laughs, his hands finding his narrow hips.

 

”I actually called Lottie and asked her what Abbie would like,” Harry admits, sheepish, ”She adviced me to get an Urban Decay eyeshadow palette. Was kind enough to even send a picture of the right one.”

 

”Those aren’t cheap,” Louis’ brows furrow, ”You could’ve gotten her, like, a doll or something. Those are cheaper, right?”

 

Harry lets out a booming laugh as he shakes his head. ”Sure. But she’s not _nine_ anymore.”

 

Louis gives Harry a grin, shrugging. ”I guess not.” He sacrifices a look at his daughter in her light pink dress, talking with Daisy and Phoebe, all gushing over what seems to be Harry’s gift. She looks almost like a little adult, but still holds the resemblance to that five-year-old Louis so clearly remembers. ”Thank you, though,” he then says, turning to Harry who also had been looking at Abbie with a fond smile on his lips, ”She seems happy.”

 

”’S nothing, really,” Harry assures, his voice warm.

 

It has only been a couple weeks since they last saw and Louis still feels like he hasn’t laid eyes on the man in months. It’s an odd feeling, swimming in his veins, making a home for itself. Around them Louis’ relatives are chattering and enjoying themselves, filling the space with comfortable hum and much to Louis’ relief, he notices the silence now stretching between them isn’t awkward, but warm in a way it once used to be.

 

”Where’s your plus one, then?” the older asks, because apparently he doesn’t like himself happy. His heart’s thrumming in his chest in an uncomfortable way.

 

Harry’s eyes light up at the mention, his head turning to the door, looking for someone. ”Almost forgot,” he utters with a small, shaky laugh, amused, ”Should be coming right in, I think.”

 

Louis tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach and turns his head to the door to look for a new person. Much to his surprise, though, it’s not anyone new at all. Well, technically it isn’t. Harry’s beaming as the woman spots them, waving at her to come over. Louis feels stunned, frozen as something akin to joy slowly spreads in his body, starting from the center of his chest. As the black haired middle-aged lady reaches them, Harry circles his hand around her in a protective and reassuring manner. ”Louis, this is Anne Twist, my mother.”

 

It takes approximately two seconds for Louis to kick himself in to move, but as soon as he manages, he’s smiling. ”I _know_. We’ve met, through the phone, yeah?” His left hand rests on his chest as he shakes Anne’s hand with his right one.

 

Anne grins at him, the familiar dimples appearing on her cheeks. A nervous tint of red coats her cheeks, but she looks lovely in her blue dress, nonetheless. ”We have, yeah,” she nods then, ”I told Harry I shouldn’t come, but he insisted.”

 

”Nonsense,” Louis demurs, shaking his head, ”I’m absolutely delighted to meet you in person. What an honour.”

 

The woman’s laugh is just as booming as Harry’s, she looks just as endearing as she covers her mouth. ”Oh, you’re such a sweet talker, aren’t you?”

 

”No,” the older man shakes his head again, ”No, no. I’m serious. Harold here,” Louis’ gaze flicks to Harry briefly, the man grinning at the both of them, ”is truly an accomplishment. You’ve raised such an amazing man, Anne. I can only hope I’ll manage to do the same with my daughter.”

 

Anne makes a pleased noise, but she pushes on Louis’ shoulder in a sheepish manner anyway, coyly looking up at Harry. ”You never told me he’s like _this_.”

 

Louis allows his own eyes to find Harry as he crosses his hands. ”I didn’t?” the younger’s voice is a little dazed, drifting at the end, ”Louis is, uh, exceptional. I think that’s the word I used.”

 

”Well that doesn’t really tell much, darling,” Anne rolls her eyes, leaning to Harry’s side, ”Honestly, you.”

 

Her son just shrugs, still beaming. ”Now you’ve met her,” he turns to say to Louis, ”Happy?”

 

Love. That is the feeling that Louis can feel swelling in his chest. He might’ve not wanted to meet Anne like this, not originally, but now that it’s here– now that she’s here with Harry on her side, Louis can’t think of a more perfect moment. So he nods, his lips in a thin line, trying to prevent the ridiculous smile from spreading on them.

 

They chat for a while about things that had come up in Harry and Louis’ conversations throughout the time they’ve known each other, like Anne’s garden and Louis’ family as well as Abbie, who politely enough makes an appearance to be introduced. Eventually Louis introduces Dan and Anne as well and from there on, it seems like Anne’s managed to work the Styles-Twist magic, everyone gravitating towards her, forming a group of people. Both Louis and Harry stick around as well, until eventually one of the kids comes to pull Louis away to give them all piggyback rides. Louis goes, but he makes a mental promise to himself to find Harry later and talk properly, whatever it is that’ll fall from his lips.

–

It’s a little past nine when Louis ventures outside the gallery, lighting up a cigarette. He’s cut down on smoking quite a bit, but hasn’t managed to drop the habit fully yet. Most of the people have filtered out already, gone home or taken the party elsewhere. Felicité had taken Abbie and the older twins to some party and Louis had pretended not to know that they’d all be drinking, just for tonight and in return had gotten a big hug from his daughter. Louis knows some people are still inside, though, bidding their goodbyes to Dan and Liam and Zayn, thanking for the party. Technically, Louis should be there as well, but one can only take so much of relatives at once.

He thinks Harry might still be in, too, even though Anne had left a couple hours ago already, to attend some event Louis didn’t quite catch the name of. Louis had made sure to say his goodbyes to her and when they’d hugged, Anne had whispered into his ear how proud she is of him and how she hopes they’ll see soon again. Louis tried not to read into that, and failed, but at least Harry hadn’t laughed at his teary eyes as he’d waved after Anne, disappearing through the door. The whole night had managed to clear some things for Louis, though, and in a way he counts that as a success.

He’d spend a lot of the party playing with the smaller children and the older kids as well as Harry, who’d joined in on his own. Liam and Zayn had done most of the entertaining of the guests and Louis had been in the middle of a life-crisis, sort of. Having Harry around for such a long time after so many months, uninhibited, it had done things to Louis and his poor heart. In March, somewhere deep in his chest he’d built up a glass box and locked all of his feelings for Harry inside it. He could clearly see them, he knew they were there, but he didn’t touch them. At times they would rattle the box, but until tonight, it hadn’t broken. However, as Louis had watched Harry blow rasberries on one of his cousins, making the three-year-old giggle joyfully, a crack had appeared. It only took one look at the younger man’s radiant face, the honest emotions in his big, green eyes shining at the boy, reflecting the happiness inside and the walls of his precious box had collapsed, bursted into a million pieces, leaving Louis drowning in his overwhelming feelings of love, trust and missing.

Now he’s here, outside, feeling the cool breeze tousle his feathery hair as those emotions make their way into every last corner of his heart, mind and soul. His fingertips are tingling with them, his muscles vibrating under his skin. With a sigh, Louis takes a drag from his cigarette, leaning against the building’s concrete wall. Just then, the door opens and some of Louis’ relatives flow outside, calling their goodbyes to the people inside and to Louis when they spot him. The man waves his hand their way and smiles, wondering if that was the last of them. The door never shuts as Harry steps outside as well. He sees Louis right away, one of those cryptically endeared smiles making its way on his lips as he comes to stand next to the older.

 

[ _Kodaline – The One_ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0My8NPmENHrN5W7OfgZnZJ)

 

”Escaped the cleaning duty, I see,” Harry hums, facing Louis, leaning his side on the concrete wall.

Louis grins at him. ”You know me so well.”

Harry tilts his head, that subtle smile still there. His hair’s a little messed up from all the running and goofing around, but he looks stunning all the same. A little bit older than Louis remembers him, though. ”Do I?” the man asks, his voice a little bit lower, curious, ”Still?”

Louis feels a little defenseless having to throw away the cigarette butt. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t want to give Harry the chance to read his body language. ”Yeah, you do.”

The younger nods, clearly thinking, considering Louis. He doesn’t say anything, just turns his head up, to look at the sky. Louis mimics his actions, trying to spot some stars. It’s in vain, of course, all the city lights eliminating the smallest chance, but they still stay like that. The atmosphere is calm, relaxed. Louis doesn’t feel calm at all, however, his mind in a hundred different places. He know Harry’s probably thinking about the same things he is, but it’s a bit nerve-wracking not knowing how he feels about those things. And anyways, even more Louis seems to be nervous about giving in to his own feelings, worried that it wouldn’t work out the second time around either.

Eventually Louis’ neck starts hurting, so he turns his head to look at Harry. ”Are you staying in London tonight?”

Harry lets his head drop as well, smiling a little. ”Yeah. Mum, too. We have a hotel room downtown.”

The older nods. ”That’s nice.”

Another silence falls upon them, engulfing the two in an almost tranquil-like mood. It’s stupid how the older’s heart doesn’t seem to settle into it. Harry starts fiddling with his nails, Louis’ own hands in his jeans’ pockets. ”You look very pretty today,” the younger mutters, his eyes meeting Louis’, but only for a second.

Louis waits a beat, just to see it’s not a way to crack the ice, a joke. It isn’t. ”Thank you. So do you.”

A flickering smile appears on Harry’s lips and then it’s gone again, too soon. ”Thanks,” the man’s accent is thicker than Louis’ ever heard it. It does things to his heart, ”’m happy I came, y’know.”

”Yeah?” Louis swallows, his eyes traveling to Harry’s lips without his control.

”Yeah,” Harry’s eyes are on his hands, but Louis can hear the smile in his voice again when he continues, ”I’m happy you invited me. I was worried that Abbie invited me because you didn’t want me to come or something. And then she just paused, on the phone I mean– she paused in a weird way, and then added that I could, _should_ , bring a plus one. I was a bit shattered.”

Harry says the last words in just as casual voice as the rest of them, but Louis’ heart leaps anyway. He blinks and his hands fist in his pockets. ”I was gonna invite you earlier,” Louis clears his throat, ”I was, but then I thought: ’what if he’ll think the invitation includes a hidden-agenda or something’. And I took my time with it. Sorry.”

The taller raises his head to meet Louis’ eyes. ”Ulterior motive, you mean? Like what?”

Louis shrugs. ”I don’t know,” he can’t bring himself to say it and he hates it.

Harry seems a little disappointed, the tone of Louis’ voice quite final. For a moment it seems like the younger’s given up on the conversation – and Louis worries about that –, moving away from the wall. He’s pinching his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand on his hips. ”You _do_ know,” he whispers, so quiet Louis barely hears it, ”You _do_ know,” he then repeats, louder. He’s not looking at Louis.

Louis tries to reach Harry’s eyes but he can’t, the younger pacing on the pavement before him. He’s just about to go and grab his hand, but then Harry speaks up again. ” _I_ know,” their eyes meet, ”It’s been only three months, I know that, but that’s plenty enough time for me to have realised I can’t do life without you in it, not anymore.”

The older slumps against the wall. Something, like an abutment seems to have crumbled inside him, his feelings still swimming around in his weak body. ”But I am _in_ your life, Harry.”

Harry seems frustrated. ”You’re not,” he shakes his head, ”Not like I want you. I don’t want the best-friend-Louis. Or well, I do, but not _just_ him. I want the lover-Louis, the _boyfriend_ -Louis, the man-that-once-said-he’s-my-soulmate-Louis,” Harry’s breathing hard, ”All of it.”

There’s determination in the man’s eyes, so bright Louis can see it even in the dim lighting. His heart jumps, shivers with energy it hasn’t felt in months. The older can feel every cell in his body screaming to reach and touch Harry, but there’s still something that makes Louis fight back, though it isn’t easy to resist his very own being. He can feel his lashes fluttering, his lips parting to say something, anything.

The younger can clearly see Louis’ hesitation, but doesn’t let it bring him down. ”I know I’m being so selfish right now, not even asking if you want this, just springing it all on you–,” he exhales through his nose, agitated, ”I don’t usually do these kind of things. Being without you, it’s been fucking torture, it makes me lose my sense.”

Louis closes his eyes. He can feel the last bits of his resolve crumbling, falling apart piece by piece. ”I’m scared, H,” his lids open halfway, ”What if this is just re-run of the previous shitshow? I don’t want that. _You_ don’t deserve that.”

Harry takes a step closer, tapping his own chest with both of his large hands, ”But I _want_ this. I’m willing to take the risk. I know it’s scary, but can you honestly say you don’t feel it, too?”

A weak laugh escapes Louis’ lips without his control, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. He feels ridiculous, he feels like he’s avoiding something that’s inevitable, something that has been coming for a long time now, but he’s just been playing time to see someone else’s cards. Only now he realises that the cards he needed to see, were his own. ”No, I can’t,” he says in a small, but certain voice.

The other man looks at him, his hands falling to his sides. He looks expectant and a little weary, but absolutely gorgeous and Louis wants to grab him. He knows he could, but he doesn’t. The suspense between them is new, something that wasn’t there before, not even at the beginning of it all. They both seem wary of it, but at the same time the older can feel it in the air, how Harry enjoys the sensation, how _he_ enjoys it. The younger lets it grow by taking a hold of Louis’ delicate wrist, his long fingers circling it in a very familiar way, only now it sends a whole new kind of shivers down Louis’ spine. ”I don’t want to let this opportunity slip by me. Me _or_ you. I don’t wanna wake up in five or ten years to realise that I let the love of my life walk away, willingly.”

It hits so close to home, Louis thinks he might cry. But he’s a 36-year-old and he _doesn’t_ need to cry about every little detail, he can control his feelings at least that much. ” _Fuck_ , Hazza,” Louis lets out an emotional laugh, letting his suddenly heavy head fall against Harry’s shoulder.

The other brings his hand between Louis’ shoulder blades, rubbing there gently. Louis fists his hand in Harry’s black t-shirt, the soft fabric secure and safe under his touch. He can feel Harry breathing, his shoulder raising ever so slightly with every inhale. ”Can I have a chance, then?”

The older picks his head up, meeting Harry’s green orbs, staring at him with such sincerity Louis can feel his insides twisting. ”That was never the question, H,” he touches Harry’s cheek, gentle and light, ”It was whether I’d give myself one.”

”And?” Harry blinks at him.

Sometimes – rarely in the life of Louis Tomlinson – words aren’t enough to convey feelings. Those times, Louis finds another way to say it. He watches Harry bite down on his plump lower lip, sees the hope flickering in his eyes and he thinks _this is how I’ll remember you for the rest of my life_ and then, Harry gets impatient and leans in, his strong arms pulling Louis in with ease. Their lips collide, falling against each other, fumbling for the right angle, the friction. Louis wants to laugh as he eagerly drowns his shaking hands into Harry’s brown, short hair. And Louis didn’t used to be a romantic, he didn’t belive in fate or whatever and maybe he still doesn’t, but he does think that something inside him finds its place. Maybe it’s the restlessness that finally seeps out of his 36-year-old body, maybe not. _But it’s something._ Harry’s sturdy, real, against Louis, their slick lips chasing after each other, tongues trying to catch the taste of the other’s mouth and somehow Louis feels like this is what they were in all of those past lives as well. He inhales sharply as Harry bites down on his lower lip, the air around them smelling like sweat and two different colognes mixed. It makes Louis smile, his heart swelling in his chest like he’s twenty years old again, having his first fucking kiss. He tugs on Harry’s hair and pulls them apart, breathing heavily.

The younger’s eyes are hooded, but he’s smiling that dopey smile of his, the one Louis had gotten so used to he didn’t even realise he could miss it. ”I can’t believe I have a 36-year-old boyfriend,” Harry muses, his voice etching with laughter.

Louis snorts, amused. They’re attached to each other and the older can feel Harry breathing against him and somehow it makes everything a bit more real.

”To answer your previous question, if I’ll give meself that chance,” Louis pushes the hair out of Harry’s eyes, ”As if I’d be able to run away from you now,” a hint of teasing finds its way into his voice then, ”Not with your endless legs.”

A happy laugh bursts out of Harry and he pulls the older into a tight hug, his chest vibrating against Louis’. The smaller snickers against Harry, his head spinning surprisingly little, considering everything. ”I think you could run from me,” the younger says when he’s calmed down, his face against Louis’ neck, his lips damp on the smaller’s skin.

A pleased, eye-crinkling smile spreads on Louis’ lips as he turns his mouth against Harry’s cheek, mouthing his next words, ”But I won’t, luv.”

The older can feel Harry smiling against the skin below his jaw, can feel how his grip on Louis tightens. _And_ fuck _if they aren’t a couple of saps_ , Louis thinks to himself. The street lamps are glowing in a shade of yellow, casting shadows around them and neither one is moving. Louis keeps his lips against Harry’s soft cheek, whispers some sweet nothings against it, making Harry shake with silent laughter. Everything is definitely not perfect, Louis refuses to let his happiness depend on another person, but with Harry’s warm hand around him, his scent surrounding Louis, most things seem to be in order. Louis’ heart is thumping in his chest, Harry’s breathing and all the people in their lives are going to be okay. Maybe not today or in a month, but one day. And with Harry by his side, Louis thinks he will, too.

 

 

 


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short epilogue. Just to warm my heart. Completely for selfish reasons.
> 
> Oh, by the way, if you for some reason want to find me on social media:
> 
> twitter: @lwtmehome

It’s quiet in the house on Delaford Avenue, clock far past ten – much, much too late for someone to even be up in the house on a regular evening. It’s Christmas Holiday, however, so a couple of the house’s residents are still awake, lounging on the soft, black couch, the taller one snuggling against the smaller one. They’re not speaking, both drinking some Yorkshire tea from their cheap, white cups where their own faces stare right back at them. The TV is on, even though neither one is really watching it, both just content with the other’s company. The men are whispering – unnecessarily so, but still –, both giggling over something that had happened the other day, something very mundane, but laugh-worthy nonetheless. A small, old papillon is sleeping in the corner of the living room, her way too big bed covered in plushies and other toys. It’s cozy, in that pre-Christmas way, when all the world seems to have calmed down with their minds, with the rushing. In reality, the worst will be happening tomorrow, on the 24th, but luckily it doesn’t concern the family that lives in the fourth house on the street.

”Ah, I’m so glad we did the Christmas shopping early this year,” Harry shakes his head, puffing his cheeks.

Louis nods, placing the cup on the couch table where the younger’s feet are resting, peculiarly enough. He nudges at the man’s foot and gives him a chastising smile, before pulling Harry under his arm, humming against his short, brown hair. ”Tell me about it. D’you reckon Abbie will be happy with her gift, though?”

It’s not like Louis is too worried about it, fairly sure his 24-year-old daughter has gotten her fair share of extravagant and fancy presents in her life, but still, he hopes that what they’ve done for this Christmas could be something special to her. Harry tilts his head so that their eyes meet, the younger’s green ones blinking with mirth – the same one that has been there for all the nine years they’ve known each other. ”You’re such a worrywart, Lou. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Louis shrugs, earning a quiet noise of complaint from the younger as his head turns with the motion. ”It’s Christmas time. _Getting older_ time,” he snorts, ”I get sentimental.”

”You don’t say,” the other hums, amused.

Just as Louis is about to start on a monologue about how entitled he actually is to feel the way he does – something about his old 45-year-old soul and all the grey hair he’s seeing in the mirror lately – the taller man gets up from the couch, leaving his side cold. ”Where you off to?” Louis frowns, his voice whiny.

Harry doesn’t reply, just walks to the shelf on their left side, digging into the small, wooden box there. Louis already knows what’s going on before the other man turns around, waving the flash drive in the air. ”We can always watch it,” Harry suggests, his brows raising and Louis knows it’s really _Harry_ who wants to see it, ”You know, to ease your worries.”

Louis gives him an unimpressed look from the corner of their huge couch, but pats the empty space next to him eventually, shaking his head with a fond smile on his thin lips. The younger grabs their laptop from the shelf as well, climbing back to his spot beside Louis and attaches the flash drive to the device.

”Are you gonna cry again?” Louis asks, teasing in his voice.

” _Me_?” Harry squawks, incredulous, ”You’re the one who started, you sap.”

The older offers his husband a cheeky smile, shrugging and saying he’s not admitting to anything. ”Just put it on.”

For a video that has been taped in the twenty-first century, by someone who actually has owned a smartphone for fifteen years or more, it starts off pretty shaky, making it hard to see what’s actually happening in it at first. Louis still isn’t sure why Harry had added this particular video on the drive, it’s not like it has much to do with Abbie, but apparently the younger thought it’d be a nice way to kick off the thing – with something to remind the girl who she’d gotten the gift from. Eventually the camera man, Niall, manages to focus on the people standing a few feet away from him, both dressed in casual, white clothes. Harry instantly starts to smile, when the camera zooms on Louis’ bright, yet emotional face.

Next to him, the younger bites down on his fist, the dimpled smile very much in place nonetheless. On the screen, though, Louis knows he’s nearly crying. It can’t be seen at the moment, the angle a bit off still, due to Niall’s emotionality – or so the man had claimed. The minister’s words can’t be heard very well, the wind on the beach catching on the camera in a way Harry had moaned about days and then days after they’d watched the tape for the first time. Afterwards, like years after, he’d come to the conclusion it doesn’t matter they can’t hear the part where the minister asks Louis if he wants to take Harry as his lawfully wedded husband – and so on – because they can still hear and _see_ the way the both of them utter the two words that actually matter, at the end of the tape that Louis already dreads watching.

When the camera finally manages to capture both of their faces in one picture, it’s evident how teary Harry’s eyes are. They’re bright and green, full of life much like they still are. Both of the men look much younger, though, the six years since that day clearly showing on their faces now. It doesn’t bother Louis to see the younger versions of them at all, however, only makes him feel a surge of want – the same want he’s felt since Paris, 2017.

”Look,” Harry whispers, pointing at the Louis on the screen, ”This is the part where you start crying.”

The Louis next to the younger on the couch, rolls his eyes, but watches anyways. The wind had, miraculously, settled down enough for the part where they say their vows, to make the words loud enough to be heard on the tape. Whenever they watch this video Louis isn’t sure if he’s more thankful or the opposite, his throat still straining with the sentimental tears that threaten to slip out of his eyes when he hears their words.

” _Er, yeah,” Louis nods at the minister his eyes nervous and flitting from Harry to the people sitting in the white chairs, the wedding party, ”Harry. My sweet, lovely Harry.” His voice doesn’t waver, but it’s a bit unsteady in a way only Louis and Harry can hear it._

” _Three years ago, when I first met you, my life was an absolute mess,” he clears his throat, ”I had great things in it, but very few people to love. I was lost and I didn’t even know it,” Louis shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip, ”I barely even remember what that was like now, but if I really try, I still can. It’s not pretty, I’m going to be honest. But I still sometimes think about it, for the sole reason that I still like to think back to the time we first met. On the plane, d’you remember? You do, of course you do,” Louis laughs._

Harry shifts next to him, pressing closer to Louis and offering him a small, fond smile. ”I remember,” he whispers, then turning back to the screen.

” _I thought you were quite something. You were beautiful, your laugh was loud and always sudden – sparkling. I loved it from the first time I heard it. We talked about our families, mostly about yours ’cause I wanted to hear your voice. And then – before I knew it you were everywhere. Like, literally, everywhere,” Louis widens his eyes, a comical effect he’d planned for that exact moment and it makes the guests laugh – and Harry too. ”I went through some massive realisations during five or six months, things that shook me to me very core. You stood by me, though,” Louis’ blue eyes are soft and on Harry, their hands joined, the older’s thumb caressing the back of Harry’s, ”You were my best friend. And then you were my lover. And then, when I needed my best friend, you were that. I’m still in awe when it comes to you. You’ve never given up on me, even when I doubted everything. You came back, when I made a mess of it all. You loved me when I didn’t deserve it. And now, now we’re here.”_

 _Small tears are spilling out of Harry’s eyes, his hands shaking so hard it can be seen from far away. He nods many times, sniffling, but smiling. Louis nudges him gently, his own eyes teary as well. ”We’re here, because I want to do this with you. I want to promise,_ vow _, that I’ll be with you for the rest of my days. The good, the bad, the sad and happy. I’ll stand by you. I won’t be in front of you to guide you, I won’t stand behind you to follow: I’ll stand by you and I’ll face the world together with you. I love you so much, sometimes it kinda hurts in here,” Louis’ cheeks are wet as he taps his chest, the same way he so often has when telling the younger man how important he is to him. ”I love you.”_

Louis swallows past the lump in his throat, his fingers carding through Harry’s soft hair, the younger crying already. ”Fuck,” the older chuckles wetly, ”I’m such a sap, aren’t I?”

Harry turns to look at him, his eyes glowing. ”’s that news to you?” he’s teasing, but his smile is genuine, warm, ”I love you. A lot.” His large hand taps Louis’ chest where his heart is and the older smiles at him, planting a kiss on his forehead.

”Love you, too.”

The video goes on and when they turn back to it, Harry’s already laughed out most of his tears, hugged Louis in the middle of the ceremony because he was too in love not to.

” _Geez,” the younger laughs, aiming an apologetic smile at the guests, ”Okay. I can do this,” he wipes his hands on his white trousers, smiling at Louis, before taking ahold of him again. ”I probably should’ve written my speech down, I think I’ve forgotten, like, half of it already,” the people laugh, ”But. Yes. When I met you, I had been alone for years. I wasn’t very confident, although I thought I was. Had still a lot of self-esteem to build, as I figured out later. I didn’t befriend people, at all. I wanted to be on good terms with myself first, how many years ever it might take. I was good, though. Until I wasn’t,” he smiles crookedly, mischief in his eyes._

” _You and your high cheekbones. That was a sight,” Harry turns his meaningful eyes to the crowd, some snickering, ”And it was ridiculous how much I wanted you to laugh. You looked weary, spent. Older than you were, too. I just wanted for you to laugh,” he looks at his bare feet, bashful, ”And then you did. That was that, I think. No, I wasn’t in love suddenly, don’t give me that look,” Harry laughs and Louis too._

” _But I was mesmerized. Hooked, a little. And two months on, a lot. Ugh, this is so embarrassing and you’re going to tease me forever, but that’s all I really want, so,” Harry bites down on his plump lower lip, tugging Louis a pace closer, ”You became my king. Like, this person with my heart in his hands. You were gentle with it, most times. You loved it, you loved me. And, and it was all I needed, I realised. Those two months we were apart – you know what I mean – I just realised that no matter where I’ll go, you’ll be the king with my heart in your right hand, your left hand waiting for me to take it,” the younger’s head ducks, tears dropping on the sand below their feet as Louis looks like he can’t breathe properly, ”I want to be there for you. Forever. Like, after forever is done, I’m still going to be there, pestering you about wearing socks. About taking Vida out. I want to be there to see you laugh when you get the answer right when we’re at a pub quiz on Wednesday. I want to see you love your family. I want to be part of that family. I love you, Louis. Please, let me be a king by your side.”_

_Niall’s sniffling behind the camera, whispering ’beautiful’ with his Irish accent and both Louis and Harry are crying and laughing – it’s ridiculous. ”Yeah, H. Yeah. Be my king.”_

Harry’s full on crying now, sobbing almost, and Louis’ own cheeks are a bit damp from the few tears that had slipped down. The younger mutes the video that still goes on and pushes the computer further away on the couch. Louis pulls him close, their mouths easily finding each other, both men laughing a little at how ridiculous they are. The older’s hands are on Harry’s waist, as the younger’s are cradling his face, thumbs gently stroking the sides of his head. His full lips still make Louis’ skin prickle with happiness, electricity, and as he pushes his tongue past them, Harry lets out a content hum from his throat. The man is firm against Louis’ touch, he’s warm and most of all he’s _real,_ he’s _there_.

When they finally pull apart, a little breathless, Louis leans his forehead against Harry’s. Their eyes lock, stupid grins on their faces like they’re both eighteen or something. ” _You make my heart feel like it’s summer, when the rain is pouring down_ ,” he sings, quiet and intimate.

Harry’s mouth opens to finish off the words he knows Louis was about to sing. ” _You make my whole world feel so right, when it’s wrong. It’s how I know you are the one.”_

Everything around them is quiet then, only Vida’s quiet snuffles can be heard in the space. Louis will never, _never_ understand how he got this lucky. Harry’s warm under his touch, happy and bright like he’s always been, but he’s _Louis’_ now. He’s been that for such a long time and still the older will never take it for granted. He knows these things don’t happen to everyone. He knows he should consider himself entitled and in a way he does. It doesn’t feel ridiculous anymore, the age difference or the fact they’re pretty different. Hasn’t felt in years, actually. It’s all natural now. _We’re from the same puzzle after all_ , Louis thinks to himself, releasing his husband with one more peck on his lips.

”Will we visit your mum tomorrow?” Harry asks as he ponders over the two cups on the couch table, his smile directed at Louis, still.

The older nods, smiling as well. ”Yeah, of course. We’ll just go there before we’ll head to Abbie and Lucas’ place. Think everybody will be there by then, but it’s okay if were not the first ones every time.”

Harry hums in agreement, asking if any of Louis’ siblings will be joining them. ”They have to drive up to Manchester in the morning. I reckon they’re going later. At night, probably. I don’t know if I’ll go with then, too,” he tilts his head to the left and then to the right, contemplating.

”Whatever you want, it’s okay,” Harry assures, leaning in for a slow, deep kiss.

”You sure?” the older asks in between two kisses, ”I wanna go to bed together with you. Wanna wake up together, too. On Christmas morning.”

Harry laughs against his lips, pulling away just an inch. ”Well, you can always suggest you go on the 25th then. Like, after midnight. We’ll be spending both days with the family anyways, I’m sure it’s no big deal.”

Louis nods, his eyes crinkling with a fond smile. ”Aight. I’ll suggest it.”

”D’you wanna watch the rest of the videos?” the younger asks then, glancing at the laptop where baby-Abbie is dancing in her diaper while simultaneously trying to run away from a very, very young looking Louis and his grabby hands.

For a moment the older thinks he might want to, but then Harry’s looking at him again, with a certain glint in his emerald eyes and he figures Abbie will absolutely like the gift, no matter what. ”Nah,” a slow, lopsided grin spreads on his lips, ”Let’s head to bed?” he hums, nodding towards the bedroom behind them.

Harry’s dimples pop out as he removes the flash drive, his elbow gently nudging the older’s side. ”Sure. Just check on rookie first, though? I’ll just go and, er, get ready,” there’s a flirtatious edge on the younger’s voice and that alone makes Louis comply.

He kisses Harry on the lips twice more, before heading to the other bedroom, right next to theirs. Excitement is curling in his stomach, but he still manages to soften inside when he reaches the crib. The mobile is still spinning in slow circles and Louis turns it off, before his eyes land on the two-year-old, sound asleep. His face is nuzzling in the thin pillow, his mouth ajar and the pacifier laying next to him. Louis carefully foists the thing in the baby’s mouth and the boy starts suckling on it. His stubby little hands are in fists above his head, like he’s celebrating a victory, only he looks soft and well, like a baby. The older man leans closer to pull the blanket further on top of him, smiling down at the boy as warmth spreads in his chest.

Nine years ago – hell, even six years ago, had someone told Louis he’d have another child, he’d have laughed in their face. He had considered himself to be too old for this, too tired and worn out. Turns out, he isn’t. Turns out, things change. Life situations change, jobs become other jobs and husbands become so important and close that there’s really no other way to make life feel fuller than to have someone’s little feet, _their_ someone’s little feet running in the house. Things change, usually for the better, eventually.

”G’night, Elias,” Louis whispers, planting a light kiss on the small boy’s cheek, before he quietly slips out of the room and into his and Harry’s.

”All good?” Harry asks from where he’s lying on the bed, only in his boxer briefs, like he doesn’t know he’s the most God-like being Louis has ever seen.

”Yeah. Sound asleep,” he nods, his blue eyes raking the younger’s body with lust, no doubt, ”This for me then?” He waves towards the man, a self-indulgent smile forming on his lips.

Harry pulls himself on to his knees in a slow motion, his back arching and his lips apart, tongue poking out to wet the lower one. ” _Yes, sir.”_

As Louis rids himself of his sweater and his heart beats away in his chest, the arousal dances on his skin, in his eyes and every cell on his body, really. Harry’s there, _his_ Harry, waiting with his legs astride and his hooded eyes boring into Louis’ soul. He’s _Louis’_ and Louis is his. They belong to each other now and they’ve got several complimentary tattoos, two wedding rings and a son to prove that. It’s all Louis could’ve ever wanted and then some.

”Well bend down for your king, then,” he murmurs, a wicked grin spreading on his lips as Harry whimpers from the bed.

Yeah. _And then some._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, then. In all its glory. Literally wrote this piece for over a year, struggled with it so much. I don't write much Harry/Louis fics, because I feel like I can't get into their heads quite as well as I'd like to, but for some reason I gave it a try. I hope you people enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope it made you smile, at least once. If that happened, then I think I've reached my goal. **Please do tell all of your amazing friends about this fic as well, in case you think they might like it. I'd appreciate that very much xx!**
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> **A hundred times THANK YOU if you read the whole thing, like really. So much love for you x!**


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